Through Time and Space
by Athena Linborn
Summary: Sequel to Blood: Six years after leaving the wizarding world, Hermione Granger has no desire to return. Her husband however, has other ideas and is determined to find her no matter the cost!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No recognisable characters are mine but are the property of J. K. Rowling.

Authors Note: This story is the sequel to Blood, so I suggest you read that before attempting this. If you don't, very little will make any sense.

I hope this story comes up to expectation. As always, please let me know what you think of it.

Chapter One

The small, but popular, Muggle restaurant was doing a roaring lunch time trade. Besuited men and women sat at tables laughing and talking, as they consumed with almost indecent haste, large lunches mostly consisting of salads of some description, while shooting anxious glances at their watches. Waitresses bearing yet more platters of food jostled their way between tables, spurred on by the almost tangible sense of urgency and impatience that pervaded the crowded room.

From his position at a back table, a tall blond man dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, watched the frantic activity around him idly, while sipping from a glass of chilled water. Glancing at the gold Rolex watch strapped to his right wrist, Draco Malfoy let out a sigh of impatience. His brother-in-law was already ten minutes late. Sitting back, he scanned the crowd of diners around him for any sign of the boy.

The doors of the restaurant were pushed open hurriedly, and a casually dressed young man entered. Upon seeing Draco, he crossed the room and threw himself down in the opposite chair with a loud exhalation of breath.

"What kept you?" Draco asked by way of greeting, beckoning a waitress over to their table as he spoke.

"The anatomy lab class overran," Mathew Granger explained in an off-handed manner. "It's only just finished. Fascinating stuff though, we were examining the kidney under the microscope and-"

"I get the picture," Draco broke in. "I really don't need to know the gory details, thanks."

"You asked." Mathew grinned. "As Mum's fond of saying, if you don't want to know, don't ask."

"I asked why you were late," Draco shot back, "not for a blow by blow account of what you'd been doing in your class."

"In order to answer your question properly, I had to explain what I'd been doing. How else would you have understood the reason for my lateness?" Mathew responded, still grinning.

Draco scowled at the younger man but didn't answer, choosing to turn his attention to the menu lying before him. Across the table, Mathew did the same.

"I think I'll have a cod steak with a green leaf side salad," Mathew said to the waitress who had just arrived.

Nodding, the young woman wrote his menu choice down on her pad before turning to a still-scowling Draco with a dazzling smile.

"The same for me," he said briskly, without glancing at her.

Waiting until she had moved away, he leaned forward and pinned the other man with an intense stare before saying, "Well?"

"I did it," Mathew answered in a low voice, also leaning forward. "I attached it to the bottom of her car. As soon as she moves it, the device will kick in. If all is well, we'll be able to locate her."

"I still don't think it's going to work," Draco sighed, "this is the twelfth device of its kind we've used and that's not counting the magical ones. I've lost count how many of those we've tried."

"Yeah, but as I was saying the other day, this one's different. It's much older and more simplistic. Most of them nowadays used GPS tracking systems, and the magic of the charm buggers them up good and proper. This one's much more straightforward and uses radar signals, like they used in the Second World War."

At that moment, their food arrived and both fell silent, as large plates of steaming fish and salad were placed before them.

Mathew waited until the waitress was out of ear shot before resuming. "As I was saying, this one is much more simplistic, and the magic of the charm shouldn't interfere with it."

"When will we know whether it's worked?" Draco asked tensely, as he deftly sliced his fish into small pieces.

"Whenever she moves her car, which, knowing her, probably won't be for a few days. She either walks or takes the bus to her workplace, so I'm guessing it won't be until the weekend."

"It's got to work, it just has to," Draco said, half to himself.

"I'm sure it will."

"I don't know, Mathew; I'm starting to give up hope. You do realise it's been over six years? Not a sign or sight of her in all that time. What's to say this thing will work?" Draco looked down at his barely touched plate of food as he spoke, the cynicism of earlier forgotten, replaced by a note of despondency rarely witnessed by anyone else.

"Carry on thinking like that and you'll never find her." Mathew frowned across at his brother-in-law. "C'mon mate, this isn't like you. You can't give up hope now, not when we're so close to finding her. I'm just as keen to find her as you are. Yeah ok, I get to see her every few weeks, but I don't even know where she lives - that damned charm has me tied in knots if I try so much as mention her name! Imagine being reduced to having to refer to your own sister as 'she' – it becomes rather demoralising after a while. We could say her name at first, you know, when you and I first met, but as soon as we went to see her, all that changed."

"Her Secret-Keeper didn't want to take any chances. If I ever find the git, I'll take great pleasure in disembowelling him with a pair of tweezers." Draco stabbed viciously at a piece of fish as he spoke, glaring down at it.

Mathew nodded in agreement. "You're telling me. Although a screwdriver may be more effective."

It was strange, Draco thought, as he began to eat once more, that this young man who didn't have a drop of magic in him was now his closest friend and confidant. It was true that initially he had cultivated the friendship in the hope that the boy might unwittingly lead him to Hermione, but her dratted Secret-Keeper had obviously thought of this possibility, and had taken steps to prevent it.

He winced as he recalled the day he had first tried accompanying Mathew and his parents to Hermione's house. Within moments of getting into the Grangers' car, he had developed a headache, the likes of which he had never known before. They had been forced to stop and Draco had clambered out of the car feeling dizzy and sick. Soon however, the pain in his temples had subsided and when he had tried to get back into the car, the headache had returned full force.

He had finally conceded defeat and apparated home. All subsequent attempts to either ride with the Grangers, or follow them in another vehicle, had ended in similar bouts of pain. From what Jones, his private investigator, had been able to find out, Potter and Weasley had suffered in the same way when they too, had attempted to follow the Grangers to Hermione's house.

Draco had been forced to change tactics and had then resorted to magical tracking devices placed either on the car, or charmed to hover around it, out of sight. He had, at this point, decided to tell Mathew the true extent of his relationship with Hermione. The boy, far from being shocked or horrified, had simply shrugged in acceptance. "I thought it was something like that," he had explained. "As much as you tried to cover it up, you looked pretty desperate that day you came round to our place and asked if we knew where she'd gone. Much more distressed than any boyfriend had a right to be, almost as though you'd lost a spouse."

From that day on, a bond had been forged between the two, at first fuelled by the common goal of finding Hermione, but later developing into a friendship based on mutual liking and respect.

Draco thought back over the last few weeks, and the memory of the twinges of unease that had gripped him at odd moments, surfaced in his mind. From what he had read, these twinges were a warning sign that his spouse was doing something that may jeopardize their bond, increasing in intensity the more the link between them was put at risk. If she attempted to break the loyalty vow by giving herself to some other man, he would be summoned to her side by the old magic that bound them. He wasn't sure he wanted to find her in this way.

True, he had tried the same tactics more often than he cared to admit over the years, in the hope that she would be summoned to him, but she had never appeared. He thought that she may have been forced to do so had he actually been unfaithful by sleping with another woman, but he had never been able to bring himself to sink that low, to commit that ultimate betrayal to their union, no matter how much he had drunk beforehand. These twinges though were different. It was the first time over the past six years that he had felt like this and he knew that he could not allow it to continue - could not tolerate another man enjoying what should rightfully be his, making it even more imperative that he find her, and fast!

"Oh yeah, I nearly forgot," Mathew broke the silence, "here." He pulled a thick packet from the pocket of his jacket, and pushed it across the table towards Draco. "You'd better be grateful; I had to almost sell my soul for these."

"Thanks," Draco smiled. "You don't know how much it means, although I doubt that your soul was in any danger."

"Yeah well, she nearly caught me at one point. Luckily that cat of hers distracted her, or she would have had the camera from me before you could blink."

"I guess the cat has its uses then," Draco commented as he stowed the package carefully in the inside pocket of the jacket of his suit.

"I still think it's an ugly bugger," Mathew exclaimed. "I honestly don't know what she sees in him."

"I remember the thing as being not much more than an orange fur ball. I don't suppose it's changed much?"

"Nop, it's as ugly and bad tempered as ever. She always says that it's got more intelligence than any human, but I've yet to see it."

"Well, if it is half Kneazle, then technically it should be pretty sharp, although as you say, I've never seen any evidence of this. The damned thing used to like Potty and the Weasel back at school, so what does that say for its intelligence?"

"Maybe it didn't have any choice but to like them, after all, she was best friends with them." Mathew suggested fairly.

"Hmph!" was Draco's only response.

Soon, both had finished their meals, and having paid, were leaving the still packed restaurant.

"Do you need to get back to your university in a hurry?" Draco asked over the sound of rumbling traffic, as they walked down the busy road.

"Well, now you mention it, I do as it happens." Mathew grinned engagingly.

"Yeah right!"

"Oh c'mon, you owe me for getting those photos for you; the least you can do is apparate me back to Barts."

"OK, OK! Anything to stop you whining, although how you can stomach side-long apparition is a mystery to me."

XoXoXoXo

The owl sat perched on the windowsill of his living room, and Draco frowned at it. It was his fathers Sleek Tawny Owl, and judging from its impatient air, it had been waiting there for a while. Untying the letter attached to the bird's leg, he watched the animal fly out of sight before unfurling the parchment. The letter was brief and to the point:

'Draco,

'Please come to the Manor as soon as you've finished work; there's something of great importance that we need to discuss.

Father.'

Turning, Draco glanced at the wall clock, which read 07:30. He supposed he had better get this thing over with - no doubt his father wanted to discuss some new business plan he had come up with. Why the man couldn't leave things alone was beyond Draco. Even though Lucius had supposedly retired from the business world to spend time travelling and enjoying life, this did not stop him from coming up with new schemes and ideas for the expansion of Malfoy Enterprises Ltd.

Checking the wards on the apartment, Draco disapparated, to appear a moment later in the spacious hall of Malfoy Manor. Seeing that there was no one in sight, he moved to the door of the informal drawing room and pushed it open. His parents and a woman he didn't know were seated round the unlit fireplace, chatting amicably while sipping coffee.

"Draco, there you are," his mother greeted him, smiling and rising to her feet. "We were wondering when you would arrive. Long day at the office?"

"I would imagine that the takeover of the Cleansweep Broom Company is taking most of your time," Lucius Malfoy said, smiling at his son while gesturing to a seat.

"Something like that," Draco responded guardedly. Kissing his mother's cheek, he seated himself beside her.

Lucius turned to the woman seated opposite Draco and smiled. "Mira, allow me to introduce our son, Draco. Draco, this is Mira Shama, a fascinating lady whom your mother and I met in Indonesia, and who is anxious to make your acquaintance."

Draco smiled politely, and moving over to the stranger, shook hands with her. Mira was dark-skinned with long shiny hair, drawn up in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, with lashes that veiled their expression. There were a number of rings on her fingers, and bracelets matching the sari she was wearing adorned her wrists.

"It's nice to meet you," he said formally, resuming his seat.

"And you," she answered in slightly accented, but perfect English. "I have heard lots about you." Her eyes roamed over his face as she spoke and he felt a shiver of something he could not identify, run up his spine.

Nodding his thanks as his mother passed him a steaming cup of coffee, Draco studied the strange woman with interest. She reminded him of a snake enchantress he had once met as a child, while holidaying in Cairo and he wondered why his parents had invited her here. She was nothing like the kind of people that normally visited the manor.

"As I was saying," his father's voice broke in to his musings, "your mother and I met Mira in Sumatra, a few weeks ago. We got talking, and it soon transpired that Mira was a very gifted Empath."

At these words, Draco sat up and stared at his father, incredulity written all over his face. An empath? Such things didn't exist - everyone knew that. Certainly there were legends about them, but that was it. He himself had tried to find such a person soon after Hermione's disappearance in the hope they would be able to help him find her, but his search had been fruitless. No, there must have been a mistake, he must have heard wrong.

"You may look shocked," his mother smiled at him. "We too, were similarly incredulous when we found out, but all the evidence pointed that way and we had to accept that the stories and legends were indeed true. Empaths do indeed exist."

"But mother, surely…I mean, it can't be…" Draco fell silent not knowing how to continue without offending his parents' guest.

Mira seemed to realise what he was thinking for she said, "You think that I am a hoax? That I am here to perhaps cheat your parents in some way?"

Draco didn't answer and she went on. "No, I am no hoax; the gift as we call it, is in my family, passed down the female line from mother to daughter. It has been so since the 1600's. It is not unheard of in India, which is where my family originates."

"Err... right," Draco muttered. He had to be polite to the woman; she was his parents' guest after all. However, that did not mean he had to take at face value everything that she said. She made him uneasy and he would be glad when this visit was over and he could go home and relax.

"Draco please," his mother laid a hand on his arm. "Let Mira explain to you. All we ask is that you hear her out."

He nodded, finally acknowledging the feeling of disquiet taking hold of him. For some reason, this woman was making him feel unsettled, as though there were secrets in those veiled eyes, secrets that only she knew about. There was a definite aura of mystery surrounding her, and he wasn't sure he felt comfortable with it. He had never had much patience for divination and the likes, and that was not about to change any time soon.

"You are nervous, for you feel that the gift is a bad thing," Mira stated calmly. "It is not - we use it to promote the healing of the mind. For generations, my family have been healers, helping those with problems that are not of a physical nature, but which are connected with emotions and feelings."

"I'm sure that's very admirable," Draco responded in a polite voice, wondering why he was being told this.

"Before we go any further," she carried on, "you need to believe me, and for that, I think that you need to see proof that I am no hoax."

Lucius and Narcissa were both silent, but Draco shrugged in reply.

Getting up, Mira moved to stand behind him, placing the tips of her fingers against the back of his head and shutting her eyes. "You are troubled," she said quietly. "Worried about an encounter you had with a disagreeable person not too long ago. You are suspicious of me, but more than that, you are unhappy, searching desperately for a young woman-"

"Enough." Draco swivelled round to face her, anger flooding him. "I don't know what game you're playing, but whatever it is, it certainly isn't amusing."

Mira resumed her seat once more, unfazed by his anger. "I am playing no game, simply sensing your emotions and feelings." She spoke in a quiet serene voice, as though untroubled by his annoyance

"Draco listen," Lucius spoke up, eager to put his son's suspicions at rest. "As you know, your mother and I went to Sumatra, so I could have a holiday and for my health. While there, I engaged the services of a healer who had been recommended by one of the St Mungo's healers. The man told me in no uncertain terms that my heart problem was not caused by any physical symptoms, but was the result of unresolved worries, which were manifesting themselves in a physical way. It was he who suggested I see Mira to see if she could help me. Within moments of meeting, she told me that my worries related to someone close to me, and his worries. Naturally, I was very suspicious of this, especially as I had been talking to that useless investigator just before we had left England and accused her of using Legilimency on me. Of course this was out of the question as she was standing behind me at the time. The only way she could have known all that would have been by interpreting my feelings and emotions. Do you see now why your mother and I believed her? Only an empath is able to interpret with such accuracy. Even you must admit that."

Draco was silent, his mind racing. Could his father be telling the truth and this woman really be an empath? It was possible that his parents had told her about the meeting with that git, the stroppy director of Cleansweep's today, and of his search for Hermione, but she would have known nothing about his father on meeting him, and yet she had supposedly guessed at his worries with apparent ease. He rubbed at his temples in frustration.

"Ok," he turned to Mira once more, "let's say for a moment that you are an empath, what of it?"

She smiled. "I may be able to help you in the search for your wife. At least, I presume she is your wife. From what I could deduce, the bond between you indicates as such."

Draco felt his mouth fall open in shock and swiftly shut it. Glancing at his parents, he saw that they too, wore looks of deepest surprise. His mother was staring at Mira as though she had never seen another female before, while his father wore a look of incredulity that would have been comical had the situation not been so serious. Clearly, neither had told her of the fiasco of Draco's marriage.

"How…how did you know that?" Narcissa's question was hesitant.

"I felt it. Draco's emotions are in turmoil and therefore easy to sense."

"I see." Lucius nodded, looking slightly in awe of the Indian woman.

"So how will you be able to help me?" Draco persisted, leaning forward and fixing her with a penetrating look. "From what I can gather, you seem to be using Legilimency more than anything else."

"I am not using Legilimency. I am using my ability to sense feelings, that is all."

"Empaths are the stuff of legends; plenty of people have tried to find them, to harness their power, but never managed it. Why? Because they don't exist. If they did, someone would have come across one by now," Draco burst out, unable to contain his impatience with the woman any longer. From what his father had told him, Voldemort had tried in vain to find an empath to join the Death Eaters, combing the world far and wide but to no avail. Admittedly, he had wanted to use this power for reasons other than healing, but he had not been successful in his search. He had finally given up in the belief that such people didn't exist other than in stories and myths.

"The people who want to 'harness' the power of an empath, are those who can never do so, simply because their reasons for wanting to use us concern harming and not healing," Mira explained, watching him closely. "I know of the Dark Lord's attempts to find one with abilities such as mine, but he did not succeed for the simple reason that he wished to use our power to harm the innocent, which goes against everything we stand for. Had he been looking for a thousand years, he would never have found one of us."

There was a silence once she had finished speaking, and Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Glancing at his father, he saw that he too looked discomforted and was staring fixedly at the arrangement of flowers in an antique vase standing on the mantel piece.

"Okay," he finally conceded. "I accept that there's something unusual about you, but getting back to the topic in hand, I still don't understand how you can help me."

Mira smiled. "Ah, I am glad that you believe that I can help you. Before answering your question I need to know more about the circumstances; from what I can construe from your emotions, powerful old magic was used to bind you and your wife together, am I right?"

All three Malfoys nodded, and both Lucius and Narcissa leaned forward eagerly. So this was why they had invited her here; Draco had been wondering about the reason. They had hoped that she may be able to help him but he had a horrid feeling that their faith was misplaced and bit back a sigh. Ah, well, he would go through this for their sakes if for nothing else.

Briefly, his father outlined the marriage ceremony and all that had taken place after it. Draco noticed that he skated over the reasons for such a hasty marriage, preferring instead to concentrate on the ceremony and Draco's devastation afterwards.

"So you see, it's been six years without a word from the girl. We've combed Europe and India in the search for her, but found nothing," Lucius ended.

Mira stared unseeing at the wall opposite her, a faraway look in her eyes. Getting up, she positioned herself once more behind Draco, placing the tips of her fingers on his temples. He resisted the urge to push her away and snarl, but sat stiffly, waiting for he knew not what. His parents, too, were silent; sitting rigidly in their seats, watching Mira.

Finally, she spoke. "Interesting, very interesting. The Fidelius Charm is designed to physically hide a person or persons by means of a Secret-Keeper. It cannot, however, blockade the mind."

"Right," Lucius nodded, trying to keep up.

Mira carried on explaining. "The marriage ceremony used to join the two of you is old and involves the basic components of magic: Fire, Air, Earth, and Water. Such a bond, if successful, is very powerful. It easily transcends manmade magic such as the Fidelius Charm."

"How, though? How does it transcend it?" Draco burst out. Merlin, the woman was good. She almost sounded as though she knew what she was talking about.

Mira turned him so that his back was to her, replacing her fingertips on his temples and smiled. "It uses emotions and feelings to create an empathic bond between the couple. You will easily be able to communicate with your wife if you use this bond; it is simply a matter of practice."

Draco felt the breath leave his body in a hiss. "How?" he asked hoarsely, surprise in his voice. "How do I practice?" He might as well hear what she had to say, to satisfy his curiosity if for no other reason.

She was silent for a moment. "By relaxing, and letting go of all thought, feeling, and emotion. Once this is done, you must concentrate on that feeling of oneness that you experienced immediately after the completion of the ceremony. This will enable you to connect to your wife, for that feeling is the link between you, the pathway which will enable you to exchange feelings and maybe, given time, thoughts as well." She stepped back from him, letting her hands fall away from his temples.

For the second time that evening, Draco felt his mouth fall open and shut it hastily. He felt winded; how did she know about the feeling of oneness that he had experienced? He felt his doubts about her start to melt away in spite of himself. No one was that good at Legilimency that they didn't need to maintain eye contact.

"This connection," he asked anxiously, "is it hard to forge?"

"It has already been forged six years ago. It is merely a case of rediscovering it." Mira replied.

He sat back, his mind whirling. What she said made sense, and not only that, it fit with his own knowledge of the ceremony and its effects. Of course, it was possible that she was simply repeating old knowledge, but he was starting to seriously doubt it. He knew for every couple, the bonding ceremony produced different effects, some felt very little afterwards, while others such as Hermione and he, had been drained of energy and could hardly stand. The latter effect was very rare, hence his increasing certainty about Mira's authenticity. If she had been able to deduce that, she really must be an empath of sorts. Not even Legilimency could pin-point such detail, as he very well knew.

Would he really be able to do this? Would he, by following Mira's instructions, finally be able to have a direct link, however tenuous, to Hermione? It seemed impossible, and yet Mira had sounded so sure.

"How do you know?" he asked her with a frown. "How can you be so sure of all this?"

"Because of what I am," she replied calmly. "I could see the pathway, the linkage when I probed deeper into your feelings and emotions. It is there, as it has always been, just waiting to be discovered."

"Yes, but if the likes of Severus Snape, one of the best Legilimens of the age could not see this link, then how did you?" Draco knew he sounded ungrateful, but he couldn't help it. More times that he cared to count, he had started hoping that finally there had been a breakthrough, but it had always amounted to nothing. The accompanying disappointment was devastating.

"Legilimency is not the same as empathy. It is the ability to sense and piece together emotions and feelings from another being, so that they present a whole, rather than the ability to use emotions as a gateway to watch sequences of actions unfold, that allows for detection of such intricately woven associations to be made," she explained. "This link is what allows you to know when your wife is in danger, or doing something that may endanger your bond in some way. It is so strong that if the need arises, it will act as a magical channel enabling one spouse to be summoned to the one in need."

Draco hoped his face did not reveal the shock he was feeling. This last revelation more than anything else, had finally convinced him that she was what she claimed to be. No one, not even Mathew knew of the twinges of unease that had attacked him of late, but Mira had been able to pick them up. He had, of course, read about the pathway that was forged between couples during the bonding ceremony. It all made sense.

Mira's voice brought him back to his surroundings. "You see, the link is activated unconsciously at such times, but what you need to do is learn how to control it with your conscious mind. Only then will you be able to communicate successfully with your wife."

"Draco, why don't you try it?" Lucius suggested. "I mean, the worst that can happen is that it doesn't work, and then you'll be no worse off than you already are. It's worth a try."

Narcissa nodded in agreement, too nervous to speak.

"Ok, but I don't hold out much hope it'll work; it's too easy," he told them cynically.

"Right then," Mira resumed her stance behind him. "Close your eyes and let go of all feelings and thought, as though you were about to perform Occlumency. Then when your mind is blank, allow the feeling of oneness wash over you, and engulf you completely."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at these words, Draco leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. He began the familiar ritual of letting go of all thought and feeling until his mind was completely blank. Occlumency was something he had mastered in his sixth year at Hogwarts and it was now almost second nature to him. Soon his mind was completely blank, devoid of either thought or emotion. Now came the hard bit; he concentrated on the feeling of utter rightness that had enveloped him once the marriage ceremony had been completed. He frowned in concentration, and as the feeling of utter rightness started to surface, a pain, vicious and sharp, stabbed at his temples, making him gasp.

He opened watering eyes and focused on the faces of the three people watching him. His parents were both looking anxious, and his mother had half risen from her seat. Mira however, was smiling at him, her eyes gleaming.

"The pain signifies that you are doing it right, and that you made the connection," she explained.

"It hurts." Draco rubbed his temples as he spoke. Luckily, the pain was fading now, allowing him to think clearly.

"It hurt because you are not used to using this ability. The pain fades with time and practice. You did make the connection though, however briefly. That tells me that with practice you will be able to hold the connection, and after a while, the pain will cease to bother you."

"I don't remember making the connection. That is, I didn't feel any different if you know what I mean. Yes, I let the feeling engulf me as you said, but as soon as it started to take hold, the pain kicked in and that was it."

"Ah, it won't take you long, I am sure of that. Soon, you will be able to communicate feelings to your spouse with relative ease. Finding her, will only take a matter of time once you have achieved this. Shall we try again?"

XoXoXoXo

Draco lay back on the leather sofa of his sitting room, savouring the peace and quiet of the flat. He had just returned from the manor, and he was glad that the meeting with Mira Shama was over. He yawned widely, as he looked round the room. Opposite him, French windows leading on to a wide balcony, let in the rays of the moon, which was reflected off the surface of the plasma TV and DVD recorder standing in a corner. Beside these, sat a muggle telephone. On the wall of the fireplace opposite, an ornate clock ticked away the seconds. It was 11:30 and Draco was exhausted but exhilarated. He smiled to himself as he replayed the conversation with Mira in his mind. With enough practice, he would soon be able to contact his missing wife and then things would certainly take a turn for the better. For one thing, he would find out the identity of the toe rag who was currently causing him so much unease and deal with him!

Six years he had looked for her, using every means both magical and muggle, when the key had resided in his brain all the time. He sighed, thinking back over the long and miserable years that he had spent alone. If only he had known of this link before. He had visited several highly trained Legilimens in the hope that they would be able to find some link that he could use to trace Hermione but nothing. All had come up blank, telling him that the ceremony had not resulted in a connection between the two, that maybe if they had had a chance to finalise things by consummating the marriage, things would have been different.

He supposed it was a bit like the x-ray scans Mathew was so fond of. The x-ray itself showed body parts as a whole, allowing the observer to see the connections and links between the bits that made up the body part, while surgery (Draco shuddered at the thought), only enabled the surgeon to see one blood vessel or whatever at any given time, thereby increasing the chances of overlooking something crucial. He grinned as he thought of this analogy. That would show that brother-in-law of his that you didn't' have to be a Muggle to understand the concept of biology!

Draco was thankful that his father had met Mira when he had and persuaded her to pay a visit to England. He smiled as he remembered his initial mistrust of the woman. Oh how wrong he had been to be suspicious of her. If this worked, and he was pretty sure it would, he would be ever grateful to the woman for showing him the means of finding Hermione.

Raising his wand, Draco accioed the package of photographs that Mathew had given him a few days earlier from the draw of his desk, and opened it. Inside, were about twenty Muggle photographs of Hermione in different poses. In three, she was clutching that mangy old cat of hers, but in the rest she was alone. He smiled as he traced her features with his finger. She had changed subtly over the years; there were now faint lines around her eyes, giving her a maturity that had not been there when they had last met. He flipped through the stack of photos and smiled. If all went well, he may see her in the not too distant future.

For the first time he could remember, Draco Malfoy whistled as he got ready for bed, his heart lighter than it had been in years. Admittedly, there was the occasional stab of pain in his temples, a reminder of the three times he had tried to make use of the dormant link between him and Hermione before giving up for the night, but he didn't mind in the least. Anything was worth getting her back and picking up the pieces of his marriage.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: I'm staggered at how many reviews this story has so far received, I just hope this chapter comes up to expectation. Have a wonderful Christmas everyone!

Chapter Two

"Right then, I think that's everything. Megan, please ensure that you get this year's A-Level Geography syllabus to me ASAP. The rest of you, please amend your Year 11 lesson plans to take into account the latest changes to the National Curriculum. Why those idiots at Whitehall had to go and change them again, is beyond me."

Humphrey Maxfield-Smithe, the portly head teacher of Mayfield School sat back and looked around the table at his staff. Most, like him, wore disgruntled looks, not relishing the thought of hastily reshuffling lesson plans, thanks to the latest changes to the National Curriculum introduced by the government the week before.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Humphrey continued. When no one responded, he shrugged and heaved his large bulk to his feet. "Right then, thanks for attending. You know where I am if you have any queries. I'd better dash, or I'll be late for the meeting with the school governors." He lumbered out of the room, the jacket of his suit swinging behind him.

"As if we haven't got enough to do," Max Branvil, a stocky brown haired man in his fifties and the head of the history department, scowled at his fellow teachers. "It's only two weeks into the term, and I already feel as though I need a holiday - now this!"

"Cheer up," Megan Lynton, a striking blonde, pulled her gaze from the window and turned to him. "Be grateful you're not in old Humpy's bad books. He spends most of his time shooting me dirty looks and clicking his tongue disapprovingly."

"Well, if you had submitted your lesson plan on time like the rest of us, he'd have no reason to grumble at you," Hermione Granger commented as she focused her attention on the people around her with an effort, getting to her feet and gathering her papers with hands that were not quite steady.

"Hermione, the man's got it in for me," Megan responded dully as she too got up. "He always finds something to grumble about."

Teachers began exiting the room in twos and threes, most wearing looks of irritation at the thought of having to rearrange their lesson plans with so little notice.

Hermione glanced at Megan, distracted from her own problems as she studied her friend. It was unlike Megan to sound so fed up; she was normally the sol of optimism, but today she seemed glum and worried. "Coming?"

"I suppose." The other woman sighed as they left the room together. "Are you free this afternoon?"

"Yes, but I've got an old friend coming round this evening."

"Oh, come on, let's go back to my place. There's something I want to discuss with you. You'll be home in plenty of time to greet your friend." Megan had lowered her voice and glanced around her as they walked.

Hermione nodded; her friend definitely seemed deeply troubled. "Wait while I collect my things. I'll see you in ten minutes by the front doors."

Megan nodded and walked away leaving her alone in the long corridor. Stifling a yawn, Hermione made her way to her office and deposited her papers on the neatly ordered desk. The hastily arranged staff meeting hadn't been as arduous as usual, and for once, had finished within half an hour, which must have been a record.

She sat down in the swivel chair in front of her computer and stretched. She was weary and wanted nothing more than put her head down on her desk and sleep, but she couldn't. Shutting down the quietly humming system, she glanced automatically round the tidy office and sat back. Megan had been very preoccupied during the meeting and Hermione doubted it had anything to do with her unfinished lesson plans, for which she had been soundly berated by the impatient head teacher. She felt a dart of concern go through her, and hoped that all was well with her now closest friend.

She had first met the older woman soon after she had moved into her grandmother's cottage, situated not a five minutes walk from Mayfield. Megan had taken pity on the lonely and heartsick girl Hermione had been at the time, and had struck up conversations with her whenever they met in the small Somerset village in which they lived. Slowly, the two had built up a friendship as solid as any, and Megan had been instrumental in helping Hermione put her past behind her and build up her self-confidence. She and her husband Angus had named Hermione godmother to their two children, Brian now aged five, and Sophie who was three.

It was rare that Hermione saw Megan upset by anything; even old Humpy's scoldings and mutterings about her inadequacies as a teacher did not faze her. She simply shrugged them off. "Oh he won't fire me," she had laughed. "The man knows I'm the best geography teacher from here to London," a fact that was confirmed by the excellent GCSE and A-Level results her students achieved each year.

Hermione hoped that there was nothing wrong with one of the children, and swiftly gathered her things together. Locking the door to her office, she made her hurried way through the school. Students dressed in blazers and ties waved to her as she passed and she waved listlessly back. Soon she had reached the mahogany front doors and drew to a hold. Megan was waiting for her, her eyes unfocused as she stared at nothing in particular.

"Meg?" Hermione put a tentative hand on the other woman's arm to get her attention.

"Oh, Hermione, there you are. Shall we go?"

"Is everything ok? You looked as though the world was resting on your shoulders."

"Oh yes, fine. Come on, I'm starving," came the brittle response.

Hermione decided not to press the point until they were alone, and so nodded before pushing open one of the heavy front doors.

The two women stepped out on to the curving gravel drive that fronted the school and turned towards the small side gate which was rarely used. White clouds scudded across the pale blue sky, propelled by a brisk autumn breeze. Around them, the leaves were falling from the trees, bordering the path on which they walked in showers of reds and burnished oranges. Soon they had left the path behind, and were going through the small gate which lead into the quiet side road Megan's semi-detached house was situated on.

"That's the nice thing about a school like Mayfield," Megan commented as they went up her front path. "They don't care when you arrive or leave as long as you teach what you're suppose to and keep up to date with your paperwork." She grimaced. "God, I hate paperwork; I'm no good at it."

"Oh, honestly Meg, you make it sound like a chore. It's not difficult especially as we've got computers to do most of it for us," Hermione answered with a grin, as Megan went through open the front door and they stepped in to the cluttered hall.

"But you still have to tell the computer what to do, and that's what I find so mind boggling." The two women took off their outer clothes before going into the kitchen. "What would you like to eat? We did a big Tesco shop last night."

"Oh, as long as it's filling and tastes good, I don't mind," Hermione replied disinterestedly. Her normally healthy appetite had deserted her a while back, and food was simply something that had to be eaten to provide the body with energy, as she no-longer derived any enjoyment from it.

Megan had soon warmed up one of her vegetable casseroles, and the two was seated either side of the kitchen table, plates of food before them.

Hermione took a few bites, then pushed the food round her plate, her stomach starting to protest. Across the table, Megan wasn't eating either, but staring down into her plate, a faraway expression on her face. She got up and began to make tea. "There's something I want your opinion on actually," she started, while pouring tea for them both.

"Oh?" Hermione spooned sugar into her tea and looked curiously at Megan. Maybe now she would find out the reason for her friend's preoccupation.

"Well, it's a bit awkward, and I'm not sure you'll believe me but-"

"Try me," Hermione encouraged as she took a sip of the strong sweet tea.

Megan stirred her own tea absently. "You see, it happened so quickly, part of me thinks I imagined it."

"Imagined what?" Hermione leaned forward with interest, not sure what to expect.

Megan hesitated for a moment longer and then launched into her story. "Well, last night, Sophie and Brian were watching television and arguing about what they were going to watch; he wanted to watch the Power Rangers, while she wanted to see Postman Pat. I was weeding the rose bed and the living room window was open, so I could hear every word and by peering up, see what they were doing. Anyway, the argument got out of hand and Brian tried to snatch the remote control from Sophie." She stopped and mopped her brow.

"Then what?" Hermione asked through dry lips, hands clasped tightly round her mug of tea.

"I'm not sure to be honest. One moment Brian had launched himself at Sophie, and the next, the antique vase Mum gave Angus and I as a wedding present, flew down from the top of the bookcase and hit him over the head and smashed. He fell backwards and lay still. I got up, but the bloody hose pipe tripped me up and so I fell sprawling into the weeds, but I could still see the window clearly. Next moment, there was a crack like a gunshot and a man, dressed in the weirdest clothes I've ever seen, just appeared. He pulled Brian out from under the wreckage of the vase and then waved this stick thing over the broken pieces of porcelain. Hermione, they just flew back together, just like that, and there it was, exactly as it had been before. The vase flew back to the top of the bookcase, and the man turned to Brian. He muttered something and prodded him with that stick, and turning to Sophie, he did the same. Then with another crack, he was gone. The whole thing couldn't have lasted for more than thirty seconds or so, but when I finally managed to untangle myself from the hose pipe and had run back to the house, there they both were, watching telly as though nothing had happened."

She stopped talking and took a large gulp of tea, her hand not quite steady on her mug.

Hermione sat staring at her, her mind numb. It couldn't be, but what other explanation was there? Sophie must have accidentally performed wandless magic.

"Don't look at me as though I'm mad." Megan's voice pulled Hermione from her thoughts and she blinked. "Look, I know it sounds preposterous, but I tell you, I saw it all."

"The children, were they all right?" Hermione asked faintly.

"Fine, not a mark on either of them, and the vase was okay as well. Actually, it's the vase that convinced me I wasn't dreaming."

"How?" Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but leaned forward anyway.

"Well, before last night, there was a crack running down one side from where Angus had dropped it a year or so back while cleaning it. Now there's nothing on it, not a scratch."

There was a silence as both women stared down at the table top, each immersed in doubts.

"I don't know what to say," Hermione finally said in a faltering voice, while butterflies began to churn in her stomach.

"Join the club," came the grim response. "If only I'd got to them earlier, then I may have caught that bloke and demanded some answers.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione let out a mirthless laugh, causing the blonde's eyebrows to shoot up.

"What? Do you think I imagined it?" Megan asked scowling. "Hermione, you know me, I'm the most unimaginative person there is. I tell you, I saw it."

"What did Angus think when you told him?" Hermione asked to give herself time to think.

Megan made a derisive sound in her throat. "He suggested I go and see the doctor, and soon."

Hermione's mind was whirling. Her friend looked more distressed than she had ever seen her, but how could she even begin to explain what had happened last night? At the same time, Megan had been her main source of support over the past six years, always there when she had needed her, asking no questions, simply offering her a shoulder to cry on when she had needed it. Hermione had lost count of the nights she had slept in the spare bedroom of this house. Megan and Angus had never once demurred when she had asked to stay the night as she couldn't stand to be alone in her own cottage. Now surely the least she could do was reassure her friend who, until now, had never asked anything of her?

Making up her mind, she smiled. "The thing is Meg, I think I know what happened but it's awkward and I'm not sure you'll believe me."

Megan dropped the spoon with which she had been fiddling, and stared across at her.

"Right now, I'm ready to believe anything, other than I'm going mad."

"Oh no, you're not going mad, it's just that what I'm about to tell you is so fantastic, you'll laugh."

She smiled inwardly, if anyone was going mad, it was her!

"Try me," Megan said in her turn, sitting back and watching Hermione closely.

Hermione took a deep breath,. What she said now might jeopardise her whole friendship with the other woman, but on the other hand, it might give her the peace of mind and reassurance she so desperately craved.

"Promise me that you won't tell a soul what I'm about to tell you," she started, staring hard at her friend.

"Of course not, you should know me better than that."

"I just had to make sure; if it ever got out you knew, there would be hell to pay." She grimaced, thinking of the statute of secrecy by which the world she had left six years ago was so rigorously governed.

"Well, I can assure you that it won't get out, so don't worry."

Hermione hesitated, picking her words with care. "Well, you know Barry Langford's boy? The one who is at boarding school, I can't remember his name."

"Who, Chris? Yes, of course, they live two doors down from us."

"Do you know anything about his school?"

"Not much, whenever I tried to ask him about in the holidays, he just clammed up. Barry says it's a school for gifted children, but whenever I ask him what subjects they study, he becomes evasive, I've not received a straight answer to this day and this is Chris's second year there." Megan frowned. "It's odd though, ah well, it's their business."

"I thought as much." Hermione smiled to herself; her suspicions were right. She was prepared to bet that the boy attended Hogwarts. Now all she had to do was convince Megan.

"Will you be shocked if I told you that I'm ninety-nine percent sure the boy attends a school for magic? "

Megan was silent for a moment, then said, "It depends, I suppose."

Beating back her own surprise at the other woman's response, she plunged in. "The thing is Meg, there are some individuals in the world who can do magic. I know it sounds crazy and farfetched, but there it is. They're born with the ability ,and naturally, such individuals tend to stick together, and over the ages, have built up a community of magical people. With me so far?" Megan nodded, eyes wide.

"Well, like all communities, they have a school, and all children who are born with magic are invited to study at this school when they reach the age of eleven. It's a very close-knit community, and one thing they're particular about, is keeping secret the fact they can use magic, from non-magical folk."

She stopped and looked at her friend who was now staring at the scrubbed table,not quite seeing it.

"Bloody hell…blimey," she muttered. "No way, it's madness. Magic? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Meg, that's what I'm telling you. You've seen it, you saw it last night when Sophie retaliated against Brian," Hermione said patiently.

"You mean Sophie did magic? My little tomboy do magic? But that's…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"That's what?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Oh, Hermione, I don't know." A slightly desperate note had entered the blonde's voice. "Well, since Sophie was very little, things, you know, odd things have happened. Nothing on the scale of last night, but one time, the rattle she was playing with fell out of her cot. I was in the next room and distinctly heard it hit the floor. When I went in, it was in the cot as before. Another time, she tore the leg of her favourite jeans at playgroup. She was crying, so I said I'd mend it for her, but didn't get round to it. The next day, the jeans were as good as new. I thought that at the time I must have imagined it but after what I saw last night, I seriously started to doubt my own sanity."

"Oh, Meg, your sanity is intact. What you've witnessed is magic, untamed but most definitely magic! Sophie did accidental magic; she had no control over it. What's more, the person you saw come into the room was a wizard, who was sent there to make both Sophie and Brian forget what had just happened and to remove all traces of the accident. If he'd seen you, he would have altered your memory as well so you would have no recollection of what had happened."

"It's too fantastic, like something out of a child's story book," Megan shook her head again.

"I know, but believe me, it's true."

"Okay, let's say for a moment that this is all true, what will it mean for Sophie? How will it affect her?" Megan was trying to bring the conversation back onto territory she understood.

"It means that what you witnessed did actually happen. When Sophie reaches the age of eleven, she'll get a letter inviting her to go to Hogwarts, which is the UK's school for magic."

Megan leaned back in her chair and eyed Hermione thoughtfully. "I see. Would I be right in assuming that the friends who betrayed you are wizards?"

Hermione hesitated, and then nodded. If Megan was going to believe her, she had to be honest with her. She had told Megan an edited version of her life soon after they had first met, and now the other woman was trying hard to make some sense of things.

"And the man, the one who you were tricked into marrying?"

"Him as well." Hermione fixed her gaze on the microwave as unpleasant memories surfaced.

"Hermione, this is all a lot to take in. Could you show me…well, maybe…could you do some of this magic?" Megan asked tentatively.

"I haven't touched a wand in six years, and anyways, it' will be traced back here." She wished she could do something to prove her words, but knew that even attempting it would be worse than foolhardy.

"I tell you what, I may have some books in which the pictures move. I'll look for them when I get home."

"If you could, that would be brilliant. I just need some concrete proof to show that I'm not imagining it." Then, as quick as lightening, she changed the subject. "How about you Hermione? Why won't you tell me what's bothering you? Maybe I can help in some way, by listening if nothing else. They say a trouble shared is a trouble halved."

Hermione gave a high and brittle laugh. "Oh Meg, there's nothing wrong, I'm just a bit overworked at the moment. A bit of rest at the weekend will soon put me right again."

"Okay, okay I won't pry. God only knows I've asked you enough times over the last few weeks to tell me what's wrong. Just promise me that if I can do anything to help, you won't hesitate to ask?"

"Definitely. Now, getting back to the subject at hand, I'll look for those books and we'll take it from there, okay?" Hermione was keen to keep Megan talking about her own problems. If she knew what was worrying Hermione, she would think she was going mad.

"Look, in principle, I can accept what you've told me as it all makes sense, but in practical terms, it's just too much to take in. A whole community living alongside us whose existence I've never even heard of! You've put my mind at rest regarding my own sanity, but right now, I don't know what to believe about this magic thing." Megan's attention had been successfully diverted.

"That's more than understandable. It's been a shock to you. If I can dig out some proof, it may help."

Megan brightened, "Tell me, how are things going with Ben?" She had evidently decided to change the subject and would no doubt mull over Hermione's revelation in her own time.

Hermione smiled. "Oh, okay I suppose."

"Only okay? Hermione, the man's besotted with you. Surely you've kissed?" Megan had gotten up and was stacking the dirty crockery and cutlery into the dish washer. "If I wasn't happily married, I would certainly be drooling over him."

"Megan, a woman has a right to her privacy."

"Not when she's talking to her friend she doesn't. So out with it, have you kissed?"

"Three times, and before you ask, it was very nice."

Hermione glanced at her watch and sighed. "I'd better go; I've got a friend coming round this evening."

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you," a grinning Megan turned to her. Then sobering, she said, "Seriously though, I'm glad you told me about the magical world. It'll take a bit of time for the revelation to sink in, but I should get used to it in the end. Maybe then we can discuss it all a bit more. Take care of yourself, and try and get that rest you talked about; you need it!"

Hugging her friend, Hermione departed and was soon walking down the road towards her own home. She felt glad that she had told Megan of the wizarding world; the other woman had been stunned but had not rejected her claims. Given time, Hermione was prepared to bet that she would accept it and want to know more about it as much to appease her own curiosity as for Sophie's sake,.

She gasped, as a now familiar wave of longing for the wizarding world and all in it hit her, bringing her to a stop. A deep voice was calling her name, and she screwed her face up in an effort to block it out. She doubled over with the force of it, causing an old man walking his dog to shoot her an odd look. Images of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts were racing through her mind like photos on a projector, and it was with willpower she didn't know she possess, that she focused once more on the rode before her and forced the unwanted pictures and voice from her thoughts. Straightening, she smiled at him and he passed on.

The feeling of homesickness was slowly receding, allowing her to think clearly again. Taking deep breaths, she willed her heart rate to go back to normal and took stock of herself. She quickened her pace, and soon her cottage came into sight. With a feeling of relief, she unlocked the front door and pushed it open, slamming it shut behind her.

Collapsing on the sofa in her immaculate sitting room, she started to tremble in reaction. This wave of longing for the world she had left six years ago was not the first that had hit her; lately such things seemed to be happening with alarming regularity. She admitted to herself that it was becoming more difficult to push away these images, feelings, and that voice, as though her resistance was slowly, but surely being broken down.

She hoped that she wasn't going mad, but knew that she needed help, and quickly. Something was terribly wrong with her; she was hearing voices and seeing things for Merlin's sake! She wished that she could attribute this to something like schizophrenia but knew instinctively that it was more complex than that, and that whatever it was, it stemmed from the wizarding rather than the muggle world. So far, no one else knew of her problems, but at this rate, it wouldn't be long until they put two and two together. Other staff members were already casting her worried glances and most had asked if there was something wrong.

She shivered; she would be glad when Quentin, her only link to that world, would arrive. Then maybe he could tell her what was going on. She glanced at the clock; he should arrive soon.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell pealed through the house, and getting up on still slightly shaky legs, she put her eye to the small and unobtrusive peephole set to one side of the wooden door. Quentin stood outside, looking impatient.

Pulling open the door, she smiled in welcome. "Quentin, come in, it's been ages since we last met."

Shutting the door behind him, he pulled her into a tight hug before holding her away from him. "Hermione, it's good to see you, even if I did have to travel halfway round the world to get here. I can't believe it's been eighteen months since we last met. Where has the time gone?" His eyes travelled over her, but he made no comment about the bags under her eyes, or the slight twitching in her left eyelid.

Soon they were settled in the sitting room, a tea tray bearing homemade scones and cake between them.

"Quite the homemaker aren't you?" Quentin said, biting appreciatively into a scone.

"Well, I find baking therapeutic. Anyway, the stuff you buy from the shops has so much junk added to it to make it last longer, it's hardly edible." She didn't add that baking helped her cope, as it was a mindless task that used up all her nervous energy.

There was a pause as Quentin ate his way through the food before him. Finally, he put down his cup and looked across to where Hermione sat, crumbling a scone between agitated fingers.

"Very nice," he commented, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "However, I doubt you asked me to make the journey from New Zealand just to sample your cakes." He leaned back in his chair, eyes travelling lazily round the cosy sitting room.

"Well, no." Hermione paused, not sure how to broach her problem. She had planned this discussion in her mind for the last two weeks, but now it came to it, she wasn't sure what to say. "I think I'm going mad, Quentin," she eventually burst out, giving up all pretence of calmness.

He eyed her thoughtfully. "Hmm, you certainly don't appear to be losing any screws, so what's made you come to this conclusion?"

Jumping up, she crossed to the large window looking out onto her small but neatly kept back garden. "I don't know, but…well, it's complicated, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Hermione, calm down. Start from the beginning and work your way forwards. Whatever this is, it's got you in a real state." Quentin was starting to look concerned as he watched the normally calm young woman pace the room.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, it all started two weeks or so ago. The first time, it wasn't much, just a feeling of longing." She shivered at the memory of the feeling of homesickness that had engulfed her that first night as she lay in bed, immersed in a book. "Well, I just put it down to loneliness and ignored it. The next day, while I was teaching, it came again. If possible, it was more intense. Again I pushed it away thinking it was me. The images started coming a few days later, the first one was of Diagon Alley. I remember it well, I was in the middle of doing my shopping, I nearly screamed out loud, right in the middle of Tescos. Anyway, I pushed it away again, but later on that say day, the voice started, and it was then wen I really thought I had become mentally ill. After that, the feelings, voice and images just grew in intensity until now, it's all I can do not to start pulling my own hair out, bang my head against a wall, or have a panic attack. It's the images of places like Diagon Alley, or Hogwarts, places with which I was so familiar, makes it even harder to shake the feelings off. The voice is frightening; imagine hearing something that no one else can hear. For a while I thought I was developing schizophrenia."

Quentin shook his head emphatically. "No, I don't think so. Your personality is far too stable for that. But this feeling? What kind of feeling?"

"I don't know, it's hard to describe. It's as though my mind's been swamped with feelings that aren't mine if you know what I mean." She hoped that she was making some sense, for she was finding it difficult to put the experiences into words.

"If it wasn't for the voice, I would have said you were most likely homesick for the wizarding world," Quentin smiled. "That's perfectly understandable - loneliness is a powerful emotion after all. Maybe it's time to consider-"

Hermione cut across him, knowing what he was about to suggest. "No, Quentin, that's the point, there seems to be no pattern to these things. At first I thought it was me, but the voice and feelings, and later, images, attack me at random, which makes me think…" She trailed off, not wanting to put her fears into words.

"That someone else is responsible?" Quentin suggested gravely, and she nodded. "I see. This does put a different spin on things."

"I don't know what to do, and thought that maybe you could suggest something."

"Tell me, these images and feelings, have they ever been of a threatening nature?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, not threatening to my person, just my peace of mind." She grimaced, remembering the memories the images had brought forth, memories that she had thought were long buried.

"What do you mean?" Quentin's eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Well, they've always concerned the wizarding world, and the things I used to like. Last night for example, I saw an image of the Hogwarts library; they seem to have enlarged their restricted section." She hoped the wistfulness didn't show in her voice.

Quentin let out a loud laugh. "Someone's determined to get you back, and obviously knows that books are the key to your heart."

Hermione returned his smile. "It's not funny, downright unnerving, if you ask me. It shows how well this person knows me." Unable to resist, she added, "But Quentin, from what I saw, it had been extended quite a bit."

"Yes it has, they've recently acquired a lot of rare volumes from Greece, Egypt and Mexico. How about the voice, did you recognise it? What did it say?"

"No, I don't think I know it. Again, it doesn't say anything nasty, just calls my name, and sometimes when I see images of places, asks whether I remember them. I haven't ever answered, at least not yet, although I fear it won't be long before I do so, just to shut it up."

"Blimey, it must take some willpower to resist it. No wonder you look so unwell. Hmm, interesting, showing you Hogwarts library of all places."

Forcing herself not to think of the place that had provided her with most of her knowledge of the wizarding world, as well as hours of pleasurable reading, she focused instead on the problem at hand. "But who's doing it? That's what I can't understand."

Quentin sobered at once, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Well, let's look at this logically. We both know of a long list of people who want you back in the wizarding world, the question is which one of them is responsible for this err, break in, but more importantly how."

She sighed. "That's what I've been trying to work out, but haven't come up with a plausible answer. I mean, to do Occulumency you have to have eye contact, so that's out of the question. The only person who could manage it without was Harry, but he was linked to Voldemort by that curse which was the link between them."

"Yes, with Occlumency you need to have eye contact. No, I don't think it's that." Quentin's voice was thoughtful and he wore a faraway look.

"What is it? You've got an idea haven't you?" Hermione asked, watching him intently.

"I have, but unfortunately I don't know enough about the subject to form any concrete conclusions."

"Well, maybe I can help in some way." She could feel the excitement building up within her.

"It's only a vague idea and I'm not sure-"

"What is it? It'll be better than nothing." She turned to him, eyes glowing. Maybe now she would get to the bottom of this mystery which had haunted her for the last two weeks.

"It's only a theory, and I'm not sure how it would work in practice, but you remember that I once told you that a link was forged between you and the Malfoy heir as a result of the marriage ceremony?"

"Yes, what about it?" In truth, Hermione remembered Quentin's warnings only too well, particularly when she was in Ben's arms, but Quentin didn't need to know that. Adopting a casual air, she continued, "Some link through which we know if the other is being unfaithful or something."

He shot her a shrewd look that she didn't meet and nodded. "Precisely. Let's say for a moment that this link could be utilised to act as a connection between you and him in some way, allowing him to convey feelings and images through it."

She pondered this idea as she drew the curtains over the windows, and switched on the lamps, bathing the room in a soft glow. "Hmm, I suppose so. Do you think it could allow him to see what I'm thinking?" She had finally put her worst fear into words and waited with bated breath.

"That I don't know. Maybe in circumstances where it was necessary, but that borders on manmade magic, and I don't think the link is quite that complex."

"He'd be more likely to use the library as a means of luring me back than Harry or Ron. I can see how it's possible in theory, but how could you do that in practice?"

"That's what I don't know," he sighed. "Not very much is known about this connection between people, which doesn't help you at all."

"Is there any way of getting more information about it?"

"I'd have to do some research to see what I can find out."

"Oh." She knew she sounded disappointed, but couldn't help it. She had hoped he would at least have some idea of what was going on, but by the sounds of it, he was as mystified as her. "How long do you think it'll take to find something out about it?"

"I honestly don't know. We're dealing with the unknown here and I'm as much in the dark as you are."

"If it doesn't stop, and soon, I'll go mad. I've already lost my appetite and I can't sleep, worrying about and waiting for the next one."

"Hermione, I'm sorry I can't help any more. Maybe you should try meditation as a form of relaxation. I can certainly get hold of some dreamless sleep potion, if that will help. I will do my best to find out all I can about it though, please be assured of that. Saying that, one day, you will have to return to the wizarding world. Don't forget this is only a temporary solution."

"I suppose so. It's just that I don't want to go back there - it brings back so many bad memories. Yes, I know I've got to face it one day, but not yet." She shuddered.

Quentin sighed but didn't respond. Clearly, he didn't want to get into their familiar argument about her return to the wizarding world, which was the way their conversations normally ended up.

Then, changing the subject, he said, "By the way, are you aware that there are two other magical people living in this area? One is in his second year at Hogwarts, and the other is a child, around three I think."

Hermione's mind flashed back to that afternoon, and she smiled. "Yes, the child is the daughter of one of my friends, and I know the boy by sight."

"Is there nothing about this place you don't know?"

She grinned. "Well, it's a small village which thrives on gossip. Everyone knows that Chris Langford goes to boarding school but not where, or what he does there. I put two and two together and worked it out. As for Sophie, I've suspected she's magical for some time now." This wasn't true, but he didn't need to know that.

Quentin grinned. "I'm glad to know that you haven't lost any of your old sharpness. Anyway, I'd better go Hermione; by the looks of it, I've a lot of research to do."

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, thanks for coming round, I really appreciated it."

"Try not to let this get to you. As you say, it isn't of a threatening nature, so ignore it and maybe he'll give up."

Hermione smiled grimly. Quentin didn't quite understand how it felt, how could he? She doubted that anyone, other than those who suffered from schizophrenia understood what it was like. "Yeah right, the day that Malfoy gives up on something because he isn't getting results, will be the day that I become best friends with his father. Quentin, it's not fair, six years of peace, and now this!"

"You know as well as I do that things move on. He wants you back, and to that end, has looked for ways and means of finding out where you are. He's obviously found a method of communicating with you, and will utilise that until he either gets what he wants, or we work out how to stop it."

XoXoXoXo

East Enders was drawing to a close, and Hermione stretched out on the sofa. She sighed as she reached for the remote control to switch channels. Sometimes she wondered why she watched the programme; it was depressing to say the least, but there was something addictive about it. Finding a documentary on terminal illnesses, she sat back, her interest caught.

The voice was quiet at first, and she didn't hear it, all her attention focused on the television screen before her.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

She jumped and cried out, dropping the remote control while staring wildly round the room.

It was him again! She felt the panic start to well up within her; her breath was coming in shallow gasps and her heart rate had accelerated to triple its normal rate. Her vision was becoming fuzzy as her brain fought to deal with the overload of oxygen. With an effort, she slowed her breathing, clamping her hand over her mouth. Slowly the room came into focus as she forced the panic back. This could not go on; she had to do something about it, and now. If she didn't, she would start to tear apart at the seams.

She glanced down at herself and winced. Over the last two weeks, she had lost quite a bit of weight and was starting to look gaunt. Her neighbours were starting to worry about her, and even the head teacher of Mayfield had noticed her pallor and commented on it.

As had been the case this last week, she wondered what would happen if she gave in and responded to that awful voice. She knew it would be a ridiculous risk to take, but the alternatives were, either getting blind drunk on a nightly basis to shut it out, or ending her days in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. Neither alternative was very palatable.

"Hermione, I know you're there, speak to me, come on!"

She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream of frustration mingled with desperation; she couldn't carry on like this! The consequences of her actions went right out of her head as she took a deep breath, and for the first time, concentrated on the voice in her head. All she knew was that she had to stop that voice, and if it meant telling it to go to hell, then so be it.

"Hermione, this is getting beyond a joke, for Merlin's sake answer me?" The voice she guessed to be Draco Malfoy's persisted and she clenched her fists.

"What do you want?" She wondered if he could hear the question which she had screamed inside her own head, although no sound had come out of her mouth. She sat tense and expectant, waiting for some response – she didn't have to wait long.

"So you've finally responded! That does make a change!"

Only one person she knew could sound so sarcastic and relieved at the same time. "Malfoy?" she questioned tentatively, eyes wide.

"Yes, Hermione, it is I, your husband. Although I do wish you'd drop the formality." She felt her heart sink, she should have guessed.

"As I said before, what do you want?" She sat back on the sofa, and slowly reasoning reasserted itself in her mind. She was protected by the Fidelius charm, and he couldn't see her, but she bit her lip. She shouldn't have given in like that, she should have known better. Then the memory of he earlier panic attack resurfaced, and uncertainty engulfed her once more.

"Hmm, well, where to start? First and foremost, I'd like to know where my 'wife' is at this precise moment in time." He drawled.

"That's none of your business," she snapped back.

"Now, now, that isn't nice. No Malfoy wife talks like that; it's unbecoming," he chided in a smug voice which made her grind her teeth.

She scowled and in a determinedly calm voice said, "Malfoy, please do me a favour and get out of my mind!"

"Why should I? Six years of silence Hermione, and now you want me to leave you be, I think not!" His voice wasn't quite as calm as she had first supposed, and she wondered fleetingly how he was feeling.

Part of her was seriously regretting that she had spoken to him, but the other more rational part, was glad that she had, despite the risk. Now at least she knew that she wasn't going mad, and maybe she could get him to leave her alone.

"Please Malfoy, all I ask is that you leave me alone. How would you feel if an anonymous voice in your head started talking to you and you didn't know how to shut it up?" she said, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in her own voice.

"I would at least have the sense to respond to it and not ignore it for two weeks, while wondering if I was going mad," he answered in a more gentle voice. "Look, Hermione, I'm not here to argue with you, I just want to talk. What's so wrong with that?"

She let out a high, slightly hysterical laugh. "Talk? Malfoy, you've been calling me at any time of the day, bombarding me with images I'd rather not see again, with any thought as to how I may be feeling, and all you want to do is talk?"

"Surprisingly, yes. I'm sorry if I frightened you – that wasn't my intention. However, it was the only way of ensuring that you would answer me. Look, I won't speak to you again during the day, okay?" His voice had taken on a placating tone.

"In return for what? You never did something for nothing, and I doubt the last few years have changed that."

Ignoring her jibe he replied, "That we talk, at least once every day. Now that's not asking much."

"What I'd like to know, is how you managed to achieve this connection," she responded to give herself time to consider his words.

"Ah, now that would be telling. But as you've asked so nicely, I'll tell you. The connection was forged during our marriage ceremony, I was just not aware of this fact until a few weeks ago."

So Quentin had been right in his theory, Hermione sighed.

"I see. How did you find out about it?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.

"That is a story for another day. Now have we come to an agreement? I won't disturb you during the day, and you and I will talk each evening," he persisted.

She glowered round the empty room. What choice had she but to agree to his preposterous bargain, for now anyway. The alternative was even more unpalatable after two weeks of his voice, and any image or feeling he cared to convey at whatever time of day. It was more than enough to last her a lifetime.

"Fine, but I warn you, one word from you before eleven in the evening and I'll ignore you for the rest of my life, even if I do end up in a psychiatric hospital as a result."

"Well, if there's a need to talk to you, then I'll have to do so," he drawled. "For example, you don't expect me to stand by and remain silent while you snog that boyfriend of yours, now do you?"

His voice was very silky, and Hermione let out a gasp. She knew that she had been taking a risk in allowing Ben to get close to her, but her loneliness, plus Ben's undeniable charm, had won out although she had been very careful – obviously not careful enough.

"Good night, Malfoy," she threw back, and the sound of his laughter was the last thing she heard before he broke the connection, leaving her alone with her confused thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Here it is people; I hope it meets expectations. Thanks to my wonderful beta and those of you who have reviewed so far. One more thing; I'm not sure whether to write the next chapter from Draco's or Hermione's point of view – what do you think?

Chapter Three

The sight of Betty and Val, her elderly and extremely curious neighbours, made Hermione groan as she walked up the street towards her cottage. The two women stood chatting outside Val's house, each throwing inquisitive glances at the locked door of their young neighbour's home.

Hermione paused beneath the sheltering branches of a large oak and hitched her heavy bag further up her arm. She was still quite a distance from the house, and so could not be seen by the two women. She had half a mind to retrace her steps and leave them to their wonderings, but knew that this would solve nothing in the long run, and so with a resigned sigh, moved forward into their line of vision.

"Ah, Hermione. We were just wondering were you were." Val smiled, turning to her. She was a small, plump, round-faced woman in her late sixties, possessing dark twinkling eyes that seemed to miss nothing as they raked over Hermione's denim-clad figure. "Have you been out shopping?"

"Yes. I thought I'd make the most of the fine weather and walk."

"Good idea," Betty, her other neighbour enthused. "I always say there's nothing like a good walk to blow away the cobwebs." Tall and thin, she reminded Hermione of a sharp-eyed bird of prey, her features prominent in a weather-beaten face, although her eyes held a kindly expression.

"So," Val began, leaning her large bulk on Hermione's front gate, which creaked in protest, "is it true then?"

"Is what true?" Hermione asked in a bland voice, putting her bag down on her front path and straightening.

"Oh, come now, Hermione, I heard it from Sarah Tigs, who heard it from Annie Whetherbey, who had it firsthand from little Brian Linton. It's all over the village."

Hermione felt her heart sink a bit further at this news. "Well, if you know all about it, then there's surely no need to ask me about it," she replied dryly, while hunting in her handbag for her keys.

"Oh, yes there is," Betty responded. "What we want to know is why you broke it off? I mean, Ben is such a good catch!"

"You're telling me," Val chimed in, her expression dreamy. "Those huge dark eyes feel as though you're drowning in them. That's not to mention the money; he owns the Larches for heaven's sake. If I were forty years younger, I'd not say no to a handsome gentlemen like him!"

"Val, you know as well as I do that there's a lot more to a successful relationship than money or looks. We weren't on the same wavelength so to speak." Hermione replied in a deliberately light voice while her heart gave a twinge of regret. Locating her keys, she jangled them in the air but the two women ignored her hint.

"It didn't seem like that to me; last I saw you were getting along like a house on fire. What happened?" Betty asked in a gentle voice.

Hermione stifled a sigh; a week ago she would have agreed with Betty, but that was before Draco Malfoy had entered the scene, in the figurative rather than the literal sense of the word. He had spent most of his time in their nightly conversations badgering her to break it off with Ben and reminding her in vivid detail of the consequences if she didn't. She had finally done as he asked, not to please him, but to protect her own heart and privacy. She was only too aware that allowing Ben to get close to her was jeopardising the Fidelius charm, not to mention her emotional stability.

"Well, things change," she said in a flat voice, "I realised that we didn't have as much in common as I had first thought."

"Things have changed mighty quickly in that case," Betty commented, eyebrows raised. "Did you quarrel?"

Were they ever going to give up? Hermione was fond of her neighbours, both of whom were well–meaning, but this was a bit much. "No, not as such. I just realised that we weren't right together and so called things to a halt before they went too far." She hoped this would satisfy them.

The two older women exchanged looks. "From what Fred was saying, Ben's taken it rather badly," Val informed her.

Fred was the gardener who worked at the Larches, an old Tudor-style house set on a hillock at the end of the village owned by Ben's family. The now stooped gardener was old and half deaf; Hermione doubted that he had noticed any such thing.

"Yes, poor Ben's really down in the dumps, and who can blame him! Why, I saw him only yesterday evening walking through the park. He looked as though the world had ended for him. Hermione, won't you give it another try? You're so well matched!"

"Val, I know you mean well but there's no point. It's better we go our separate ways now, rather than later on when the hurt'll be greater." Hermione was aware she sounded callous, but knew instinctively that if she hadn't broken things off, her chances of being discovered would increase ten fold, not counting her emotional well-being.

"Young people these days, you think with your heads. What good is that?" Betty sighed. "I still say you should give the relationship a chance before throwing it all away. You may live to regret it you know."

"She's right, Hermione. What you need is some time alone together in a neutral setting to sit down and talk things through. Tell you what, why don't I invite Ben to my house and –"

"No, Val! There's no point." Hermione could feel exasperation getting the better of her and took a deep breath to bring it under control. It would never do to antagonise her neighbours, both of whom had been a source of comfort and help to her since she had moved to the small village. "Look, what's done is done. Trust me it's for the best. Ben and I want very different things from life. For example, he's a firm believer that a woman should stay at home with the children while they're growing up, but I'd go mad if I had to do that. I want a career as well. It's fundamental things like that we can't agree on, so what chance is there for us?"

There was a pause while the two women digested her words. Then, shaking her head, Betty sighed. "So it was getting serious between you then. That makes it even more of a shame."

"Let's put it this way; we'd been discussing the matter for a while and couldn't agree on a compromise. Look, I'd better go in and unpack my shopping or else the ice cream will have melted." Hermione bent and picked up her bag again.

"But if you care enough for each other, you can make it work," Betty insisted. "You've known him since you moved into the village and we were all so pleased when you finally agreed to walk out with him."

Hermione smiled at the quaintness of her neighbour's phraseology. It was true that there had been unanimous approval from the village's inhabitants when she and Ben had started dating.

All had thought that it was a good match, and she had overheard more than one person speculating about the length of time they would wait before calling the bands.

"As I said, I don't think we're suited."

"You know, he's besotted with you; he always has been. He won't give up lightly." Val put in knowingly.

Privately, Hermione agreed with her but shook her head. "I doubt it. We've agreed to go our separate ways; it's for the best. Anyway, it's been lovely chatting to you; I'd better get this lot unpacked and then start on the housework."

To groans of disappointment from the older women, she unlocked her front door, and with one last wave, shut it behind her.

As she unpacked her shopping, she mulled over Val's words. Ben had not taken the break up very well, refusing to accept her excuse that they were not suited, not that she blamed him for that. She knew in her heart of hearts that if things had been different, she would have been more than happy to settle down with him. He was quiet, shared similar interests to her, and undemanding - the antithesis of the man to whom she was irrevocably tied.

She bit her lip, wiping away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. No one, not even Megan, knew how difficult it had been to break things off, to end the relationship that had afforded her so much pleasure, and which, if it had been given the chance to grow and blossom, could have been so much more.

She admitted to herself that she wasn't in love with Ben, but if things had carried on between them, it wouldn't have been long until she was hooked and where would that have got her? No, Draco Malfoy's grumblings aside, she had done the right thing. Now all she had to do was convince her heart and the rest of the village of that fact.

XoXoXoXo

"Well, have you?" Draco's question was abrupt and Hermione shrugged, settling herself more comfortably on her living room sofa.

"Have I what?" she replied lightly, flicking through the latest John Lewis catalogue without much interest.

"Damn it, Hermione, you said that you'd end it with him! You promised!" His voice was abrupt, making her wince.

"Oh? If memory serves me correctly, I said that I suppose I'd end it at some point. It's not as though it can go anywhere, thanks to you."

He sighed. Then changing tack, said, "Hermione, please. I'm imploring you. If you have any regard for his feelings let alone anyone else's, you'll end it with him. After all, it's not fair to string the poor man along like that, knowing all the time that you can't give him what he wants."

She scowled; trust him to start playing mind games like this. He couldn't care less about Ben's feelings on the matter. Well, she would let him suffer for a bit longer. "What do you care how he's feeling? All you care about is yourself. Anyway, I'm not doing anyone any harm, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that you're disregarding the sanctity of our marriage vows, our commitment to each other, and my feelings on the matter," he argued.

"Hmm," she smiled mirthlessly. "Well now, let's think. I've lost count of the number of times over the years that you 'disregarded' our marriage vows, when getting up to heaven knows what with other women."

"Ah, but you know as well as I do that there was a good reason for that. If you had been there like a wife should be, there would have been no need for me to look elsewhere. Anyway, I never slept with any of them, so what's the problem?" he retorted heatedly, unconsciously mimicking her earlier words.

She let out a splutter of indignation which she wasn't sure he heard. "You're the limit, Malfoy. So it was my fault that you couldn't keep your lust in check now was it? Well, I don't mind in the least what you do with yourself, so kindly keep out of matters that don't concern you."

"Not concern me? Some interloper is seeing my wife behind my back and that shouldn't concern me? I might remind you that we're married and that-"

Swiftly, she cut him off; he was starting one of his rants again, something he'd been doing all week. Anyway, she was growing tired of the whole conversation and decided to terminate it as soon as she could. "For your information, I've ended it with him. Not because you wanted me to do so, but because I didn't want to get even more hurt than I am at present." She knew she sounded needlessly cruel but she couldn't help it. Draco always seemed to bring out the worst in her, coupled with the fact that she was missing Ben.

"You've broken it off with him? You're sure?"

"Yes, Malfoy, I'm as sure as I can be, so stop going on about it." Hermione tried to keep the bitterness from her voice but it was difficult.

"I'm sorry it was so painful for you," he responded, voice guarded. "I can't pretend not to be relieved though."

"No, I suppose not."

There was a pause. Then he drawled in a casual voice, "You must be pleased about Potter's brat."

"What?" She gasped out, diverted from her gloomy thoughts. "Harry's got a child?" Even as she asked the question, she realised that she should not have done so. She couldn't afford to give way to her curiosity like this.

"Oh, didn't you know? He and the Weasley girl got married soon after the end of the war. Now they have a boy. The perfect family, you may say."

If she hadn't been so taken aback by this news, she may have noticed the bitter note in his voice as he spat out the last few words.

"I'm surprised," he continued relentlessly, "I would have thought that you'd know what was happening in your friends' lives even though you were not a part of them. Clearly I was wrong."

"Well…." She hesitated, unsure what to say next. How could she tell him that she had deliberately distanced herself from everyone in the Wizarding world, so as to minimise any temptation to go back. It had been difficult but she had made Quentin promise soon after she had moved into her cottage, never to tell her of anything that was going on in the world she had left behind, unless it had a direct impact on her safety. The only pieces of news Quentin had imparted to her were the deaths of Voldemort and Dumbledore a few years ago. She had been glad about the former, but had sighed when she had heard about Dumbledore, part of her wishing that they had been able to make their peace before his death.

"Well?" he broke into her thoughts, and she started.

"I'm not particularly interested in what the inhabitants of the wizarding world get up to. I no longer belong to it, so the going ons there don't interest me." She knew she sounded cold and dismissive, and hoped he'd leave the subject alone but should have known better.

"Ouch, that's not very nice. There was a time when you were determined to prove that you belong to it as much as those of us who were born into it," he drawled.

"I've changed my mind. I've made a place for myself in the world I live in now thanks and am perfectly happy with it."

"You may be, but those of us you left behind certainly aren't!" His voice had taken on a sharper tone, and she groaned inwardly.

"You know, it's amazing really how the Weasley twins have become such big international players," he continued lightly.

The casual remark startled her. "What?"

"Didn't you know? They've got shops in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Paris, Berlin, Rome, and other European cities. That's not to mention their outlets in New York and Dubai. Last I heard, they were planning to open up in Sydney as well. Zonko's just couldn't keep up."

Hermione's eyes were wide with interest, her earlier resolution of not asking about her old friends forgotten. "Wow, they have done well for themselves. Mr and Mrs Weasley must be proud of them."

"Oh, they are. The twins paid for extensive renovations to the family home last summer. From all accounts, it's a haven of luxury now. Nothing on Malfoy Manor of course, but as homes go, it's supposed to be the latest design." His voice was conversational, holding no hint of the anger that had been there moments ago.

Hermione smiled to herself, imagining the Burrow transformed into a compact palace. Mr and Mrs Weasley would be delighted. "They deserve it. They scrimped and saved to bring the children up. It's high time they enjoyed a bit of luxury."

"Well, their children can easily afford to keep them in style." His voice was bland and she wondered what he was thinking.

"And Ron? What of him?" The question was out before she could stop it, and she silently berated herself for letting her interest get the better of her like this. It would get her nowhere.

"Oh, he's a Chess Master now, one of the best in the country."

"A Chess Master?" She gave up all pretence of disinterest and sat eyes wide with incredulity as she listened to him.

"Yes, he represented Britain in the World Chess Championships two years ago." Draco sounded almost bored, as though this was old news and of no consequence.

"Blimey, this is a lot to take in." She could just imagine Ron, head bent in concentration, crouched over a chessboard, oblivious of his audience, his mind focused entirely on the game before him. He had been a formidable chess player during their school years, beating her and Harry without any effort at all. She knew that he was a superb strategist, and could easily imagine him playing chess for a career. She felt a pang at not having seen him during the World Championships and wondered if he had missed her.

"How did he do in the World Championships?" she asked now, a lump in her throat.

"He came runner up, was beaten by the wizard from Tunisia."

"Oh, no. He would have hated that."

Draco laughed. "He wasn't pleased."

"How about Harry, what does he do?" Hermione's question was tentative but she had to know. It seemed that her curiosity which had been held in check for so many years had finally overcome its restraints.

"He and the Weasley girl are Aurors. She had to give it up when they started a family, but no doubt she'll take it up again once the baby's a bit older." Draco's response was dry and she could imagine his frown of disapproval at the thought of a woman with a young family working.

There was a pause as all the information he had given her whirled round in her head. Then, unable to stop the question, she asked, "How about your family? What of them?"

"Father had to take early retirement from Malfoy Enterprises, and now he and Mother spend most of their time travelling around and enjoying life. I run the company."

So, Lucius Malfoy was alive, she scowled at the thought. If anyone had deserved to die, it was him. She imagined his pale pointed face, the eyes cold as he looked down his bony nose at her. It was a shame that he wasn't in Azkaban; the man must have committed enough war crimes to span several life sentences.

"I see," she replied coolly. She would like to have asked how he'd wriggled out of being convicted for his allegiance to Voldemort but stopped herself.

"There's no need to sound quite so enthusiastic," came the amused rejoinder.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not!" Then in a shaky voice she continued, "I've got to go now, I'm rather tired."

"Of course." His voice was understanding, but held a note of smugness. "Shall I pass on your good wishes to Potter and the Weasley girl?"

"Er…" she hesitated. What was she supposed to say to that? If she agreed and he passed on her message, the hunt for her by her friends would probably start again and she wasn't sure she could bear that. On the other hand, refusing would seem churlish and mean to say the least. "Yes, please pass on my congratulations on the birth of their baby," she said finally, while wondering if she had made the right decision.

"Will do. Good night, I'll speak to you tomorrow." There was a note of satisfaction in his voice which she didn't miss.

She didn't respond, and after a moment knew that he had broken the connection between them.

She sat staring at the catalogue clutched in her hand, her mind churning with images. Harry and Ginny were parents; she couldn't imagine it. She wondered what their baby looked like, if he'd inherited Ginny's red hair or Harry's untidy black mop. A feeling of intense longing for the world she had left engulfed her, bringing tears to her eyes. For the first time in years, she wondered if there was a way of seeing them all again, of catching up with her old friends and seeing Harry and Ginny's baby without Draco Malfoy finding out, but even as the thought entered her head, she knew it was futile. She could not risk it however much she was tempted.

It had been deliberate on Draco's part to talk about her friends, she could see that now. He knew full well that she had no contact with them but had wanted to stir her curiosity about the people who had once been like a family to her in the Wizarding world. Well, he had succeeded. Images of herself, Harry, and Ron during their school days flooded her mind, and she sighed deeply for what may have been.

Then with a determined shake of her head, she stood up. Mooning about in this way, wishing for the past would get her nowhere other than to make her feel miserable. It certainly wouldn't help her decide what she was going to contribute to the barbecue that Angus and Megan were holding in a few days time.

XoXoXoXo

The sound of voices and laughter drifted to Hermione as she walked up the front path of the Lintons' house and pushed open the back gate. A crowd of people was congregated on the well-kept lawn while Angus Linton, a tall ginger-haired man, presided over the barbecue set to one side of the lawn.

"Hermione! I was just about to ring you to see where you were." Megan detached herself from a laughing knot of people and came over to her. "What will you have to drink? I advise you steer clear of the punch; Barry made it and I think he was rather liberal with the alcohol!"

"What's the point in punch if it hasn't got a drop of the good stuff in it?" Barry Langford grinned at Hermione. He was of medium height with bright twinkling eyes which surveyed her curiously.

"There's a drop of the good stuff and a gallon of it," Megan retorted, grinning back. She steered Hermione towards the drinks table and pouring her a glass of wine, muttered, "Just so you know, Ben's going to be here."

"What?" Hermione turned to stare at her friend, aghast. "But I thought you said-"

"Angus, bumbling fool that he is, invited him. They'd had a few drinks at the pub and common sense went out of the window. You know what they're like."

"I suppose we have to meet again at some point," Hermione sighed resignedly, sipping at her glass of chilled wine. "At least there's lots of other people here to cover up any awkwardness."

"That's what I thought once I'd finished telling Angus what an idiot he was. Ben's not here yet so you don't have to worry."

"I'll keep an eye out for him."

"Honestly, men! You can't trust them to do anything right. I'd better go and help with the barbecue or we won't be getting any food this side of next year." Megan shook her blonde head in exasperation.

"Shall I-"

"No, you enjoy yourself; there's more than enough people to manage the barbecue." So saying, she pushed Hermione towards a laughing group of people nearby and disappeared.

Hermione was soon caught up in the babble of chatter as she conversed with the Lintons' friends, most of whom she knew well. The drink flowed freely and she felt herself start to relax in the convivial atmosphere. The evening was warm for the end of September, a gentle breeze fanning their faces and making the flames of the barbecue dance. Overhead, the sun was setting, leaving in its wake a red sky. So far, there was no sign of Ben, and she felt relieved. For all her brave words to Megan earlier, she didn't want to come face to face with him if she could avoid it.

A tap on her arm made her look round to see Barry Langford standing beside her, holding a glass of his own punch. "Can I persuade you?" he asked, offering the glass but she shook her head.

"I still haven't finished my wine, thanks. I will try some though, a bit later on."

"It's good stuff you know; really warms up the blood." He knocked back the punch as though it were water and smacked his lips.

"I'm not much of a drinker. A glass or two of wine is normally enough for me," she smiled back.

"You don't know what you're missing." There was a pause, and then he asked, "So, seen anything of your family lately?"

"They came down six weeks or so ago. I plan to go and see them soon, maybe on Friday."

"You're a close family then." The remark was casual but she frowned. It was unlike Barry to take this much interest in her. Usually their conversations related to either Anthony or Joan Langford, Barry's children, both of whom she taught English Language and Literature.

"Yeah, we always have been fairly close. I think the older you get, the more you appreciate your parents."

He smiled. "You're an only child?"

"No, I have a brother who's nineteen and in his second year of medical school in London."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Bart's." At his confused look, she amended, "St Bartholomew's."

Barry helped himself to another glass of punch and took a swig. "Of course, it's one of the best. You've both done well; your parents must be proud. Where did you go to school?"

"Godolphin and Latimer," she said without hesitation. She had been asked this question so many times over the past few years, it no longer bothered her.

Barry's eyebrows rose and he looked more intently at her, eyes narrowed in thought. Hermione returned his stare while trying to discern his thoughts.

"You did your A-Levels there as well?" he asked curiously.

"Yes. Then I decided that I'd had enough of London so took up teaching at the same time as doing my degree. Anyway, how about you? How's Chris getting on at his school?" She changed the subject smoothly.

As though he'd come to a decision he smiled. "Oh, he's getting on fine. He loves it there. I must admit I was a bit worried at first, a young lad away from home and all that, but he seems to have settled down nicely."

"Does he have a lot of friends?" she asked politely, scanning the crowd milling around them.

"Oh, yes. They're split up into houses you see depending on strengths and so on. A child's house is like his family so to speak."

Hermione knew at once that he was referring to the four school houses at Hogwarts and began to feel uneasy. Had Barry heard of her through his son? It would account for his sudden interest in her school career.

She pinned a bright smile to her face and said, "Oh, that's nice. It's always hard at first. I remember as though it were yesterday that my first few weeks at Godolphin, I was terribly homesick. It eased after a while and I saw my parents every weekend."

His look of disappointment told her that this hadn't been the response he had wanted. "I'm sure," he sighed.

"Why did Chris go to a boarding school? Did Mayfield not meet his requirements?"

Barry's expression was closed as he surveyed her. "No. Chris is gifted and as good as Mayfield undoubtedly is, he needed a more challenging environment."

"Food's ready everyone!" Angus's voice drifted across to them, and collecting plates, they made their way over to the barbecue.

Soon Hermione had been separated from him by the jostling crowd and she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw him talking to one of Megan's other neighbours. That, she admitted, had been rather awkward to say the least. She was ready to bet that Barry had heard of her from his son; why else had he sought her out? Six years of practice, however, had ensured that she could act as well as the best of them, and she recognised that it was this ability which had finally convinced him that he was mistaken about her identity.

Hermione moved forward and was soon helping herself to food, laughing and chatting to the group around her.

"Mad!" Eddie Thompson, a young man of nineteen who was on the local rugby team, exclaimed, eyeing Hermione's plate. "How can you live without meat?"

"Easily," she replied calmly, "you just don't eat it."

"I don't hold with all this vegetarianism," Tom McGibbon, a beefy truck driver, commented, helping himself to a drumstick. "Animals were put on the earth to be eaten, so as humans, we have to do our duty by eating them. It's an insult to the creator if we don't!"

The conversation continued in this vein, and Hermione found herself smiling as she listened to the banter going on around her. It was at times like this that she was glad of the small community that made up the Somerset village. Most of its inhabitants had been born here, although a few like her were relatively new comers.

"Mummy said that you were staying tonight," Brian Linton said, sidling up to her while nibbling on a sausage. He was tall for his age, possessing light brown hair and very blue eyes which twinkled at her out of a grubby face.

"Is that okay with you?" Hermione asked, grinning down at him.

"Only if I can sleep in your room." He gave her a disarming smile, which showed the gap in his front teeth.

"I don't think that Sophie would like that," was her diplomatic response as she scanned the garden for Megan's youngest child.

Brian made a noise of disgust and bits of sausage flew out of his mouth. "Who cares what Sophie says? Anyway, she'll be asleep by the time I go to bed, so she won't know." He puffed out his chest as he spoke.

"No I won't! I'm going to sleep in Auntie's room, so there!" Sophie Linton had arrived on the scene. Small and blonde, she reminded Hermione of a contained tornado as she glared up at her brother.

"Yes you are. I said so!"

"No I'm not!"

"That's enough, both of you," Hermione broke into the argument. "Look, Daddy's serving desserts. Why don't you go and get some ice-cream?"

Both children turned to where their father was setting out large bowls of ice-cream, and their squabble forgotten, ran over to him.

"You certainly know how to handle them."

The quiet voice made Hermione start, and turning, she saw Ben Cambel-Black watching her, hands thrust into trouser pockets. Tall and slim, he was an imposing figure, possessing auburn hair which glinted in the evening sunlight. His features were regular and his dark eyes held a bland expression she could not decipher.

"Ben! I hadn't realised you were here," she floundered, not knowing what to say. She had been so caught up in the argument between Brian and Sophie that she hadn't seen him arrive. Uneasily, she wondered how long he had been watching her and cast about for something to say to break the tension.

"Nice evening," she finally managed.

His eyes not leaving her, he nodded. "Very nice."

"Have you had some food? If you're not quick, there'll be nothing left." She moved towards the food tables, but he put a hand on her arm forestalling her.

"I'm not hungry. Shall we go for a walk? Megan's roses are doing well; I'd like to take a closer look at them."

"You go." She glanced round for help but everyone seemed to be over by the desserts table, leaving them alone. "I've got to help Meg with the children."

"Hermione, we need to talk." Ben's voice was calm, but she could hear an underlying note of steel in it.

"There's no point; it won't change anything," she retorted hotly. "Let's just go our separate ways and leave it there shall we? "

For an answer, he took hold of her arm and guided her firmly down the path to the small summerhouse at the end of the Lintons' garden, opened the door, and pushed her inside.

"We'll be missed," she protested as he leaned against the door, barring her escape. "People will wonder where we are and that'll give rise to even more gossip than there is at the moment."

"No we won't. People recognise the fact that we need to talk and will leave us alone."

Hermione knew that he was right. The news of their break up had not been received well by the inhabitants of the village, most of who were of the opinion that they should have stayed together. More than one person had offered to act as a mediator between them in an effort to heal the rift. The villagers would be only too glad that they were alone and sorting things out.

"Ben, please. What's the point in going over old ground again; it won't get us anywhere."

"It may help me to understand why you suddenly broke things off like that. Those excuses about us not being compatible, were just that - excuses. So, why, Hermione?"

She sighed and took a deep breath, knowing that she had been afraid of this. Ben was a persistent man and wouldn't let matters rest until he knew what had prompted her to act as she had. Part of her blamed herself for the folly of getting involved with him when it could only spell trouble in the long run, but another part reminded her forcefully of the loneliness and heartache that had been her companions for the five years since they had got to know one another.

She thought again of the risk she was taking in seeing him, and knew that she would have to end it here and now. Draco Malfoy would use any leverage he could to find her and her involvement with Ben was activating, however mildly, the defence mechanism that protected her marriage. It was time to tell Ben her concocted story for just such an eventuality as this. It would hurt him, but in the circumstances, there was nothing else she could do.

"Okay, fine," she said, looking him squarely in the eye. "I'll tell you my reasons for ending things, but I warn you, they aren't pretty."

He nodded. "I just need to know."

"Well, when I was eighteen, I was half in love with this boy I knew. However, he didn't feel the same about me and on the night I confessed my feelings, told me that he had got engaged to someone else. Mortified, I came here to pull myself together and put it all behind me. I got a letter from him two weeks ago asking if we could meet for a drink. Apparently, things didn't work out for him and his fiancé and they split up."

Ben's expression had hardened as she talked and she winced at the look of anger in his eyes. "So you're going to go back to him, is that it? God, Hermione, have you no self-respect?"

"It isn't like that-" she defended but he cut across her.

"Then what is it like? Actually, on a second thought, I don't want to know. I hope you're happy with this man, but don't come running to me in tears when he dumps you too!"

So saying, he wrenched open the summerhouse door and left her alone. Hermione hugged herself as she replayed the scene in her mind. Life was so unfair! Due to something that was beyond her control, she was forced to live a miserable life. She hoped the Malfoy family and all associated with them would rot in hell for this.

XoXoXoXo

The hot water cascaded down Hermione's tense body, and she relaxed under its soothing ministrations. The evening had felt as though it would never end, but finally everyone had gone home, and she, Megan, and Angus, had packed up the barbecue. She hadn't seen Ben after their confrontation in the summerhouse, and once again, sadness welled up within her for hurting him like that. He was a good man, placid and gentle, and she would have liked nothing better than to settle down with him. She blinked back tears for what may have been and straightened her shoulders.

Turning off the shower, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and padded back into the guest bedroom. Soon she had changed into a nightdress, and pulling on a flimsy robe, began to work the tangles out of her shoulder-length hair. She knew that Ben would not breathe a word of what she had told him, but would simply ignore her. To him, she was weak, a woman who wasn't strong enough to stand up for what she believed in and who was silly enough to ruin her life for a dream.

"No, I won't!"

The sound of Sophie's high-pitched voice made Hermione put down her brush and frown. She had thought that both children were asleep but this couldn't be the case. By the sound of it, the child was working herself into a tantrum.

Swiftly, she got up, thrust her feet into slippers, and opened her door. Maybe there was something she could do to help the distraught child. She made her way to Sophie's room and going in, saw both Megan and Angus standing by the bed. Sophie lay on her back, her mouth open as she wailed loudly.

"I want Tabby, where is he? I want Tabby!"

"He's gone darling, remember?" Megan sat down and tried to pull the howling child on to her lap without success.

"No, I want him now!" A fresh bout of howling accompanied this statement making the adults wince.

"Sophie, stop this. We'll get you a new Tabby tomorrow." Angus tried to placate, but his words were drowned out by his daughters howls.

Tabby had been Sophie's pet dolphin, a ragged creature that had been consigned to the dustbin when the stuffing had started leaking out of him and his fins had fallen off.

"Tabby's gone to heaven Sophie," Hermione tried explaining, seating herself on the bed and looking into the tearstained face of the little girl. Clearly, the child was worn out, and as a result, moody in the extreme.

"Why? I want to go too! I want to go to heaven with Tabby!"

"You can't!" Brian's voice interjected. He was standing in the doorway in his pyjamas, the noise having woken him.

"Yes I can!" Sophie was glaring at him while tears ran down her face.

"You're not good enough. Only good people can go to-"

"Brian!" Angus said sharply, but the small boy ignored him as he taunted his sister.

"You're bad and they don't want bad people in heaven. I'm going to go because I'm good but you-"

"That's enough!" Angus moved across the room and grabbed the smirking boy by the arm. At the same time, Hermione too, jumped to her feet, intending to get Brian out of the room, and fast.

"Nooo!" The scream was rent from Sophie as she struggled to get out of her mother's arms.

Hermione turned to face her, poised half way between the bed and door. She wasn't sure what happened next. One moment the child was yelling and kicking an effort to get to her brother and hit him, the next, there was a crash as the shelf on which Sophie's teddies gave way. Suddenly, the air was full of flying teddies, all moving towards Brian.

"Hermione, duck!" Megan's voice was high-pitched with fear as the shelf rose into the air and began to move in the direction of the horrified boy.

Hermione made to throw herself onto the floor but she wasn't quick enough. The heavy shelf moved speedily through the air and there was a sickening crunch as it made contact with her left shoulder and upper arm. It fell with a thump to the floor and there was silence.

Pain lanced through Hermione as she knelt on the carpet, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her left arm hung at her side, limp and unresponsive, while her shoulder sagged strangely.

Megan leaped from the bed and knelt beside Hermione her face ashen. "Oh my God! Oh my-"

Her words were cut off by a sharp crack, and Hermione knew without being told that someone had just Apparated into the room. At the same time, the air behind Hermione stirred and a figure appeared silently behind her.

Slowly, and willing herself not to throw up, Hermione lifted her head and stared at the figure standing before her. Hannah Abbot, one of her old classmates, stood there wand outstretched, staring around her. Hermione glanced at Megan but her friend's gaze was directed over her shoulder. Hermione too, turned stifling a moan of pain, and the darkness that had been threatening to engulf her since the shelf had hit her, came up to meet her as her eyes fell on the tall, grey-eyed, blond man standing behind them, wearing a murderous expression.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: This chapter was written a while ago but my beta has been busy so was unable to return it to me for a while. However I hope it comes up to expectation.

Chapter Four

The well-lit bedroom was silent as its occupants stared around them in horror, each grappling with and trying to make sense of the events of the last few minutes. They all gazed down at the figure of the young woman lying in a crumpled, unmoving heap on the floor, their minds unable to fully process what had happened.

"Aunt Hermione?" The voice of the small boy standing in the doorway seemed to shatter the spell that had fallen over the room, and the adults all jumped as though electrocuted.

Draco blinked, and for the first time became aware of the other people in the room. His eyes moved to Hannah Abbot, who returned his look, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward but he raised his wand, moving to stand between her and Hermione, blocking the latter from view.

"One more step, Abbot, and I won't be responsible for the consequences," he said in a low voice, and her eyes widened with apprehension.

"Look, can someone please tell me what's going on?" The ginger-haired man in the doorway was staring between them in confusion. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

The blonde woman kneeling beside Hermione turned and scowled at him. "They're wizards." She turned back to Draco and Hannah. "I presume one of you is here to modify memories?"

Hannah nodded. "Yes, there's been a burst of accidental magic so- Malfoy, what are you doing? "

Draco had bent down and was lifting Hermione into his arms. Slowly, he straightened, Hermione's limp form cradled against him.

"What does it look like, Abbot?" he drawled, transferring Hermione's weight to his shoulder while taking care not to touch her left arm, which hung uselessly at her side.

"Malfoy, you can't move her like this. The ministry-"

"I don't give a damn as to what the ministry thinks, and if you've got any common sense, you won't get in my way." He glared at her over Hermione's head, knowing that at that moment, he was capable of murder if stopped.

Hannah drew back, but the blonde woman leapt to her feet. "Let me guess, you're her husband, is that right?"

Draco looked down at her with impatience. He wanted to get away from here. and fast, and their questions were exacerbating his already taut nerves.

"Yes, now if you'll-"

"And where are you taking her?" she asked, stepping forward and putting a hand on Hermione's uninjured shoulder, a determined expression on her face.

He gritted his teeth, and in a controlled voice, replied, "That is no concern of yours."

She glowered at him, eyes narrowing into slits. "I'm her closest friend, of course I'm concerned."

He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to hex the woman into next year. "Look, she'll be in no danger if that's what you're worried about."

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm worried about. How smart of you to notice. She needs medical attention, and fast, so she can't go anywhere."

"She'll get medical attention as soon as I can get her away from here," he shot back.

"Where are you taking her, St Mungo's?" Hannah asked, moving tentatively forward.

His lip curled. "No, I'll get the family healer in to look at her."

"Well, there are witnesses who have seen you take her. If I don't hear from her in a few days or so, then I'll get this ministry of yours involved." The blonde woman turned to Hannah as she spoke, who nodded in agreement.

"Have no fear, the ministry will be notified of this," she said, shooting him a filthy look.

Draco had had more than enough. Tightening his hold on Hermione, he closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later, he had Disapparated to appear in the dimly lit hall of Malfoy Manor with a small pop.

"Mother, Father, where are you?" he called, moving towards the informal drawing room with his burden.

A house-elf appeared at his side and held the double doors open for him. He entered the warm room and deposited Hermione on one of the large sofas and straightened, massaging his arm, which had started to go numb supporting her weight.

The doors were pushed open behind him and Lucius Malfoy entered the room looking confused. "Draco, this is an unexpected surprise, what…Merlin's beard!" His gaze had fallen on Hermione's prone form, and he stared at her as though seeing a ghost.

"I need Anton, can you call him?" Draco glanced at Lucius over his shoulder as he settled Hermione on the sofa

"But…she…I don't understand…" The older man gestured towards the unconscious brunette as he spoke.

"I'll explain everything, but first I need Anton. She's been hurt and he needs to see her."

The door was pushed open and Narcissa Malfoy came in. Her eyes swept the room, coming to rest on Hermione's waxy face, and she, too, gawped in surprise. Then, pulling herself together, she said, "I'll call Anton," and crossed to the fireplace. "Then you can tell us what happened this evening."

Five minutes later, the aged German Healer who had attended the Malfoy family for as long as Draco could remember, was entering the room wearing a curious expression.

He bent over Hermione, wand out as he examined her shoulder. "It's dislocated and the arm is broken," he informed the Malfoys, who stood watching him. "It can easily be fixed."

"Well, get on with it then," Draco snapped impatiently.

A few moments later, Anton straightened, his job done. "There, it is as good as new now. She is unconscious. I suggest giving her a sleeping draft so her body can get over the shock. As she is, she could come 'round at any moment."

"Good idea," Narcissa agreed. "No doubt her body has suffered, so it's best to ensure she sleeps to get over it as soon as possible." What she didn't add was that the respite would give them time to decide what to do next.

The healer took a small vial from his bag and poured two drops of the contents onto Hermione's tongue. "That will ensure she sleeps for the next twelve hours or so."

"Could you give her a general check up to ensure that all else is well?" Draco asked. He wasn't taking any chances now, and he might as well get the man to give Hermione a once-over while he was there.

Anton nodded, and for the next few minutes, traced his wand over Hermione's body, taking readings and scribbling the findings on a notepad. Finally, he turned back to the group watching him. "She's fine and healthy, although she is a little thin for my liking. I think a young woman in her prime should have a little more fat on her, especially if she means to bear children." His words were casual, but their inference was not lost on the Malfoys.

"That can be easily fixed, I'm sure." Draco said, moving forward. "Thank you for coming out so late."

"It was nothing." The healer began to put away his things, and Narcissa showed him out, leaving the two men alone. She soon returned however, and waited as Draco tucked a blanket around Hermione before speaking.

"So, what happened?" she asked, sitting down and gesturing for Draco and Lucius to do the same.

Draco seated himself beside Hermione, drawing her head onto his lap. He took a deep breath and told them what had transpired in a few short sentences as they listened in wide-eyed amazement.

"I always thought those protection spells would be the thing by which you'd find her; it was lucky for us that she was hurt," Narcissa said thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose so. From the look of it, she was struck by a shelf; one of the Muggles must have performed accidental magic," Draco replied, leaning back and surveying his parents' faces in the light of the candles around the room, before switching his gaze back to the limp figure of his wife. He traced her cheekbone with his fingers, a feeling of possession going through him.

"Hmm, no doubt Abbot will have told the ministry by now, and once they find out, it'll be a matter of time until her old friends hear about it," Lucius mused. "We need to move her, or else they'll be here before you know it."

"Where though?" Narcissa asked, anxiously glancing round. "They know about our properties in Europe. I suppose we could ask the Warringtons if they'll lend us their house in Pretoria; South Africa is nice at this time of year."

"I don't think running away is the answer. No, we'll notify the Prophet that we've found the girl and ask for people to respect the fact that you and she have been apart for six years, Draco, and leave you alone. You know, play on their sympathies. Potter and co wouldn't dare search for her openly once the public think that you should be left alone, and there are enough wards about the French villa to put them off if they try. Anyway, what's to say that she'll want to see them again? We weren't the only ones she was running away from, remember. I say play on this advantage, Draco, and make the most of it." Lucius smiled as he finished speaking, his eyes narrowing in a calculating fashion.

Draco nodded. "Yes, Merlin knows I'll need every advantage I can get, however small." He didn't take his eyes from Hermione's face as he spoke, tightening his hold on her. Opposite him, Lucius and Narcissa exchanged uneasy glances.

"Look, son, you have to be careful," Lucius said now. "Hermione will probably become hysterical when she wakes up and realises where she is. You'll have to be patient with her; don't try and rush things or she'll definitely try and go back to those friends of hers, which is the last thing you want."

Draco looked up from Hermione's face and frowned. "What?" The switch in the conversation had taken him by surprise, and he wondered what they were talking about.

"Well, you'll have to take things slowly with her," Narcissa continued. "It's important that you build up a relationship of trust with her, and if that means taking things more slowly than you'd like, then so be it. I know that having been apart from her for six years, your first inclination will be to consummate the marriage, but if you take her by force, she'll never forgive you for it and probably won't let you come anywhere near her again."

Draco shrugged. Right now he was in no mood to listen to their advice; all he wanted to do was take Hermione somewhere far away where no one else could find them, and perform a binding charm or fifty on her so that she could never leave him again, never! . He concentrated instead on more practical matters. "The Villa, is it habitable?"

"Yes, I didn't have it closed since our last visit. The elves will get everything ready for you I'm sure," Narcissa answered with a shrug. "The warm weather and surroundings should help Hermione to come to her senses."

"You'd better go," Lucius interjected, getting up. "I'll let the Prophet know and take care of things from this end. 'Cissa, where's the portkey for the Villa?"

"I'll get it." Narcissa left the room in a whirl of robes.

"But the business," Draco protested, lifting his head, remembering for the first time that he was the head of a large multi-national organization, and that his father's health would prevent him from taking over, even on a temporary basis.

"Never mind the business; we'll cope. Right now, your first priority is Hermione. You can worry about the business when you and she are on better terms, and your marriage is stable," Lucius said bracingly. "If need be, your mother can help me, or failing that, I'll get paid help. Even the best advisers can be bought if the price is right."

Draco nodded; this was certainly true of most of those he knew. Getting up, he wrapped the blanket more securely around Hermione. "And her job and so on? I don't know what she does for a living, but they'll start asking questions if she doesn't turn up for work on Monday morning and that's all we need."

"The Fidelius will have lifted, so it won't be difficult to find that out. I'll pay them to shut them up. Best not to alienate her just quite yet from her Muggle life." Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "Don't worry, son, it'll all be okay You just focus on Hermione and remember what your mother and I told you. Now, we'll contact you if we need to, but for peace's sake, your mother and I had better stay out of the picture until madam over there has learned to accept things." He nodded towards Hermione as he spoke. "I don't envy you; in the coming few days, she'll do everything she can to get away from you."

"Do you think the consummation charm will activate?" Draco asked. He had often wondered whether the charm, which had previously been denied the chance to work, would be set off by the proximity of his and Hermione's presence when they finally met again, thus forcing them to consummate the marriage. He sincerely hoped it would; it would make life a lot easier if it did.

Lucius wrinkled his forehead in thought. "I don't know. Logic says yes, but when has magic ever followed the path of logic? There's been nothing written on the subject in any of the materials I've researched, but then no couple who has undergone the traditional ceremony have been parted for as long as you have. Maybe there'll be some form of attraction, but given the time delay in setting the charm in motion, it won't be so potent."

The door opened and Narcissa entered holding a small box in her hand covered in shells. "Here you are; it'll transport you to the hall of the villa."

"Thanks, Mother." Draco took the box from her and wrapped Hermione's slender fingers around it, taking hold of the other end himself, while with the other arm, he clasped her to him. "Well, I'll hopefully see you soon, all being well." He smiled at his parents, who both nodded. Then, Narcissa leaned forward, and tapped the box twice with her wand and the portkey was activated, speeding them out of England and to the south of France.

XoXoXoXo

The morning was cloudless, and the sun shone down from an azure sky onto the small villa situated on the French Riviera bordering the Mediterranean Sea. A gentle breeze ruffled the surface of the blue-tinted swimming pool at one side of the extensive lawns, causing small ripples to spread over the glassy surface. Birdsong drifted in through the open French windows of the room in which Draco sat, adding to the air of peace that cloaked the small villa.

From his position at the side of the bed, he glanced at the clock and smiled grimly. Any time now, Hermione would come around, and then the fireworks would start. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to hers, savouring the feel of her warm lips against his own. Merlin only knew when he could do so again, so he was making the most of the opportunity while he had it. He had spent the better part of the night here with her, kissing her and familiarising himself with the contours of her body, those he could reach anyway, but it was by no means enough to appease the hunger raging within him.

He traced her features with his lips, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she was really here with him. Less than a day ago, he had been alone, not knowing where she was or with whom. Now thanks to a tantrum thrown by a three-year-old, they were together. He supposed he should thank the brat for her outburst of temper, but all he wanted to do was make Hermione his.

He bent his head, kissing and nibbling at the skin of her throat and neck, resisting the urge to tear apart her flimsy dressing gown to reveal more of her body. So far, he had been unable to unwrap the damned thing from around her, as the pieces of fabric seemed to have welded together, or even to undo the tie holding it in place.

He supposed that her innate magic was acting as a defence mechanism by preventing the thing from opening, although he really couldn't see why. He was her husband after all, and had a right to see her body. To add to this, it had wrapped itself tightly about her legs, preventing him from sliding his hand beneath it. He could have cut the thing away from her, but a small part of him rebelled at the idea, however tempting it may be. He was no barbarian!

Reluctantly, he straightened, knowing that if she awoke and found him bending over her in this way, she would yell to high heaven, and that really wouldn't help matters. Picking up his wand, he performed a quick cleaning charm, and the marks he had made on her throat and neck over the past few hours disappeared, leaving the skin unblemished. He seated himself at the foot of the bed and waited, the ticking of the clock loud in the room as it counted away the seconds.

A minute passed in which Hermione lay, inert and deeply asleep, her breathing quiet and regular. Then as the hands of the clock moved to 11:13, she stirred and opened heavy-lidded eyes. Draco tensed as her gaze moved around the unfamiliar room, confusion evident on her face. Merlin, she was as desirable as ever, his craving for her increasing tenfold as he watched her bewildered expression. She blinked and raised herself on one elbow so she could get a better look at her surroundings. Then, as was inevitable, her eyes landed on him and widened in horror. Swiftly, she shut them as though to deny their evidence and opened them again, clearly hoping that he had been a figment of her imagination.

Irked by this, Draco said, "I won't go away if you close your eyes, you know."

Her eyes flew open again, and now an expression of panic was taking the place of her earlier confusion. She sat up and stared at him, then gave her leg a good pinch and winced at the pain, an act he knew was the Muggle way of determining whether one was awake or not.

"No," she said faintly. " No, this can't be. I don't understand how… what… why this… Oh, I'm going mad!"

Draco smiled to himself; some things did not change, and Hermione's ability to over-dramatise situations was one of them. "I assure you that you're as sane as I am, but before we go into that, you need to eat something. We'll have breakfast together."

With a click of his fingers, a house-elf appeared, bearing a large breakfast tray, which it set across Hermione's lap before vanishing with a crack.

She stared at the tray, wearing a bemused expression. "No, thanks, I'm okay." She hunched herself away from the tray as though to minimise all contact with it.

Curbing his impatience, he leaned forward and poured her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and handed it to her. "Drink that, and then we'll talk."

She took the cool glass with trembling fingers but did not drink, choosing instead to stare into its murky depths.

"Hermione, it isn't poisoned you know, drink it." He helped himself to a croissant as he spoke, his own appetite only now coming to life, having been dormant for the past thirteen hours or so.

Carefully, she replaced the glass on the tray and shook her head. "I'm not thirsty, thanks. Now what am-"

"You've been asleep for over twelve hours, of course you're thirsty. Drink it, come on. Think about it, why would I want to poison you? We're alone here together, so what reason would I have to harm you?"

She scowled and looked once more around the room, shaking her head. He could tell that she still clung to the belief that she was dreaming, so much the better. Now maybe she would eat in the certainty that it was all a figment of her own imagination. Then to his relief, after a moment's pause she picked up the glass again and downed the contents in one go.

He waited until she had refilled her glass, and then asked, "What's the last thing you remember?"

She frowned in thought as she put down her glass and reached for a piece of toast, still looking dazed and only half awake. "Sophie was overtired and upset. We were trying to calm her down, and Brian came in and started teasing her. She became even more distressed… and… well that's it," she said in a flat voice.

He finished the last of his croissant and poured himself a cup of coffee before speaking. "From what I've been told, the child let loose some accidental magic, causing a shelf of toys to be thrown at her brother. Unfortunately, you were in the way and it hit you, dislocating your shoulder and breaking your upper arm," he told her dryly.

She shuddered; clearly she remembered the pain of the shelf hitting her. "And then what happened?" she asked in a nervous voice unlike her.

"Well, it activated the protection spells which were part of our marriage ceremony, and before I knew what was happening, I was transported to your side. It was a shock, I can tell you."

"You what? But the Fidelius…"

"It's null and void now; the protection spells overrode it," he told her in a gentle voice, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

"Oh." She was silent for a moment, then her head came up and she glared at him. "What happened then, and where are we now?"

"I was transported to your side and took you back to Malfoy Manor with me. We called in a healer who fixed your arm and shoulder, and then you and I came here." He smiled, taking another croissant and biting into it.

"Here? Where's here?" she asked, eyes travelling once more around the sunlit room. Then pushing the tray off her lap on to the bed, she swung her legs to the floor and stood up. The movement seemed to bring her out of her dazed state, and she shivered even though the room was warm.

He hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged. "For obvious reasons, I'm not going to tell you that just yet. Be assured that you're in no danger. Careful," he warned, watching her. "You should take things easy for a while."

She ignored him and walked on unsteady legs to the French windows opening on to a wrought iron balcony, looking out onto the terrace below. She looked down at her crumpled dressing gown, then out at the vista of green lawns laid out beneath her. "This isn't a dream, is it?" she asked in a quiet voice, her fingers gripping the edge of the rosewood dressing table until her knuckles turned white.

"No, far from it." Getting up, he moved so he could see her face, which was devoid of expression as she looked down at her hands. "Hermione, it's not that bad, honestly. I know that we didn't exactly part on the best of terms, but we had to meet some day; you couldn't go on running for ever. We'll stay here for a while to give ourselves time to get used to the situation and decide how to go on from here," he said in a placating tone.

Finally, she raised agonised eyes to meet his. "You don't understand, how can you? It isn't as simple as staying here and deciding what to do next. I've built up a life for myself over the past six years, and can't just get up and leave; life doesn't work like that. Anyway, it isn't as straightforward as simply rejoining the wizarding world, there's more to it than that."

Draco took a deep breath, his own temper which he had held firmly in check, starting to rise. "Then how does it work? You left the wizarding world six years ago without a backward glance, and the rest of us had to pick up the pieces. You didn't consider then how your leaving would affect either me or your old friends."

"That was different," she retorted angrily, turning to face him. "I was forced to run away from the wizarding world. I had no other choice in the matter if I wanted to retain my own sanity. This can't be likened to that time! I have a life in the Muggle world that I have no intention of giving up." The sleep had left her now, leaving her clear-headed.

He bit back the words that had sprung to his lips, knowing that he had to tread with caution if he wanted to make any headway with her. "Look, I'm not asking you to give up your life in the Muggle world. All I'm saying is that you can't pretend that our marriage doesn't exist. There are forces at work that neither of us can influence, so why fight them?"

She made a disbelieving sound in her throat. "I could give you a long list of reasons but won't bother. Instead, I want to go home."

"What, and have the whole of the wizarding world descend on you? They'll all know where you live now. The Fidelius is no longer active, so all those locator spells that have been cast since you left will have come to life. Believe me, your home will be swarming with people, mostly the press and your old friends I suspect," he flung back, not entirely sure if this was true but hoping she'd believe him.

As he'd hoped, she paled at this revelation. "But…but, it can't…"

It took all the resolution he possessed not to scoop her up and take her to bed then and there. Instead, he gave a casual shrug. "You'll be safe here. No one knows where we are, and even if they do find out, the wards around this place will prevent them from entering. I've taken the liberty of ordering some clothes for you from a nice boutique near here; they arrived an hour ago so you can change."

"You seem to have thought of everything," she responded sourly. "But that doesn't change anything."

The urge to shake some sense into her was overpowering so he turned away and took a few steadying breaths. His parents had told him to keep calm when talking to her, but right then, that was proving to be extremely difficult. "Hermione, you know as well as I do that it changes everything, but before we go into that, I'll leave you to get showered and dressed. You'll understand if I leave one of the elves here with you." He wasn't taking any chances, and leaving her alone wasn't an option. Even though the villa was warded more heavily than Malfoy Manor, it having been in the family for a lot longer, he could not have her left alone.

"I'm not likely to do anything, now am I?" she said irritably, but at the same time, he saw a thoughtful expression cross her face. It was fleeting, and if he had not been watching so closely, he would have missed it. Immediately, his senses were on red alert, but he kept his expression neutral.

"I wouldn't know. Now, I'll call Teel, who'll stay with you while you're changing."

He proceeded to call the elf, and in rapid French, instructed the creature to keep Hermione in sight at all times while she was showering and changing. He would also keep an eye on her by use of a concealed one-way mirror in the ceiling. The elf nodded, and satisfied that his instructions would be carried out, Draco left the room.

Entering the sitting room further down the hall, he crossed to the fireplace, and taking a fistful of Floo powder, scattered it into the flames. Then, sticking his head in to the fire, he called, "Malfoy Manor!"

Soon, his head had stopped spinning, and he blinked as his mother's sitting room came into focus.

"Draco, is everything okay?" Narcissa asked, crouching in front of the fire to speak to him.

"Oh yes, as well as can be expected. Hermione's in the shower with Teel watching her, so I thought I'd find out how things were going from your end."

"Wise move. Teel is a very gifted elf; he won't let her do anything she ought not to be doing. I presume you've put a few tracking charms of your own on her?"

"Of course, what do you take me for? I've modified it slightly so that it can't be detected by meddling fools like her Secret-Keeper." Even now the word brought a horrid taste into his mouth, and he wondered if his parents had managed to find out who had been helping her all these years.

Narcissa smiled with approval. "Good idea, you were always good with charms. As for the Secret-Keeper, we've had no luck in that quarter; whoever it is, is certainly skilful."

He grimaced. He would find the Secret-Keeper and make the toerag pay for the anguish he had suffered these past years. "Well, I didn't think it would be easy to track him or her down. How about everything else?"

"Well, your father notified the Prophet and it's headline news. Naturally, those friends of Hermione's came storming round here, but the Minister of Magic himself has ordered them to leave you and Hermione be."

Draco laughed. "I bet they didn't like that!"

Narcissa returned his smile with a broad one of her own. "No, but he wouldn't budge. He said that you two deserved some privacy after all this time apart and they should wait for her to contact them. You should have heard the language from that Weasley boy; some things don't change no matter how much money one has."

She gave a delicate shudder.

"And the Muggles?" Draco asked with a slight frown. The last thing he wanted to do at that moment was alienate Hermione from her Muggle neighbours and work colleagues.

"Well, your father has requested a leave of absence for Hermione from that school of hers; the head teacher was more than happy to oblige." Her lip curled, and Draco knew that the head teacher's compliance must have been bought like so much else in life.

"Money can certainly talk when the need arises," he commented dryly.

"Oh, I'm so excited you've found her after six years, Draco. There were times when I doubted that you ever would, and where would we have been if you hadn't? But now, finally you can start your life." She beamed at him, eyes twinkling.

He sighed audibly. "Oh, Mother, I know how your mind is working. Grandchildren are a long way off yet. Hermione won't let me within five feet of her at present, let alone close enough to start work on a baby. Anyway, we're far too young for such responsibilities." The mere thought of children was making him shudder; he and Hermione were far too young for such an undertaking! Anyway, he wanted her for himself for a while before any brats came along and he had to share her.

"Now, Draco! That kind of attitude isn't becoming to a Malfoy! I might remind you that you are both in your mid-twenties and should start thinking seriously of such things. Why, when your father and I were your age, we were already parents. Anyway, there is our bloodline to consider. You know as well as I do how important it is to carry on the line with nice healthy children; it's essential. All my friends' children have children, or are in the process of doing so. You can't be left behind!"

He bit back a grin at the indignant expression on his mother's face. He supposed that she had a point, but right then his main priority was to build up some kind of rapport between himself and Hermione. "All in good time, Mother," he soothed. "Let's walk before we run, shall we?"

She nodded, all be it reluctantly. "Draco, please be careful. Hermione will probably be in a bit of a state by now, and you can't afford to aggravate the situation," she warned, looking worried again.

"Actually, she's not too bad. I had expected tantrums and all sorts, but so far, have been pleasantly surprised. I think not having a wand is making her wary," he responded thoughtfully. "She's not happy about being here, but hasn't made trouble yet. I pointed out that if she went back to Somerset, the press and her friends would find her, something she didn't like."

"I wonder why? There's something there that doesn't add up, but I can't for the life of me work out what. Why would she want to avoid her old friends? Us I can understand, but them…" she lapsed into thought.

"I don't know, but by Merlin I'd like to know. Maybe I'll be able to get it out of her soon. I'd better go; she's finished showering, and I don't want her left to her own devices longer than needs be."

"Take care and good luck. We'll let you know more when we hear." Narcissa smiled and waved.

Draco withdrew his head from the fire, and once the room had stopped revolving, looked into the small mirror he held. It showed Hermione sitting on the dressing table stall and running a comb through her curly hair. He had left her alone too long, and so getting to his feet, he went to join her.

XoXoXoXo

The recliner was comfortable beneath him. Draco had always enjoyed lying on it whenever he and his parents visited the Villa, which was not often enough in his opinion. He lay back against the cool leather, savouring the peace and tranquility of the atmosphere and smiled to himself. This was definitely the way to live. His glance moved lazily over the clear water of the pool, which looked blue due to the reflection of the French sun. Maybe he would take a dip soon.

His eyes then moved to Hermione also lying on a recliner, but whereas he was relaxed, she was as taut as a bowstring as she flicked through the pages of a magazine. He doubted that she was taking in a word of the print before her and shrugged. It was time she spoke to him, rather than stare at the glossy print. He considered he had been generous in allowing her ten minutes of quiet to read it.

"If you keep up that posture, you'll become very stiff," he drawled, breaking the silence. "It's not healthy being so rigid; it's bad for the spine, you should follow my example and relax!" He wriggled further down the recliner to emphasise his point.

As he had hoped, his remark earned a snort of derision from her, and she glared at him over the top of her magazine. "I think not!"

"They're very comfortable you know," he continued, nodding at her recliner. "We had them imported from Italy a few years ago. The French just can't match up to Italians where furniture is concerned." He turned onto his front, admiring his reflection in the surface of the pool.

She ignored this and went back to reading the magazine, and he sighed loudly. "You know, it's rude to ignore your conversational partner. I'm sure your parents, being the proper citizens they are, told you that. Don't let them down by sulking in this way. It's very unbecoming."

"And what do you know of my parents?" came the sharp response.

He grinned to himself. No one could battle with words like Hermione. She had spent the past few hours maintaining an icy silence, speaking only when it was necessary, and he had at first humoured her. Now, however, he was bored and wanted some interaction. He hadn't spent the past six years looking for her so they could sit in silence like a cranky old couple! He intended to make the most of the time he had alone with her, for he had a feeling that once they returned to Britain, she would lead him in a merry dance.

He stretched and laid back. "Well, where to begin! Your mother, Lynn, enjoys her work, is an excellent cook, loves gardening, and has recently taken up Point-to-Point needlework. As for Peter, he likes to tinker with engines in his spare time, which annoys Lynn to no end as he gets oil all over his clothes. He enjoys DIY, and recently built a bookcase which unfortunately collapsed when Lynn tried to put a few books on it." He allowed himself a smirk at this point.

She was staring at him with suspicion, her magazine forgotten. "But how do you know all that? You haven't been having them watched, have you? I wouldn't put it past you."

"In case it's escaped your notice, people do grow up. I know all that simply because I've taken the time and effort to get to know your family. I'll admit that at first, my reasons were self-serving, but as time's gone on, I've developed a liking and respect for them," he retorted, scowling. Why couldn't she put the past behind her and concentrate on the present as he was doing?

"You'll excuse me if I have difficulty in believing that. You've kidnapped me and refuse to let me go, what do you call that, reasonable?"

"I call it necessary," he replied vehemently. "You're my wife, and no amount of denying will change that fact. I had to get you away for the sake of our marriage, which has been neglected these past six years."

She bit her lip and looked away, her shoulders slumping. "But why, Malfoy? What's the point of all this? I mean, neither of us wanted this in the first place. You were as pressured into it as I was, so why don't you channel your energy in helping me find a way out of it rather than put up with the dictates of others in this way? It doesn't make sense. The war's over now, and I refuse to believe that your parents are happy with a Muggleborn for a daughter-in-law."

He blinked at the sudden change in the conversation, but rallied quickly. Getting up, he went to sit beside her, their bare arms brushing. He had kept his distance these past few hours, but his need to be near her, to touch her and assure himself of her presence, could not be denied for any longer. He was glad that she had asked these questions, but was unsure of what to tell her. Then deciding to tell her the truth, or part of it, he turned to her.

"Hermione, you know as well as I do that the ceremony we underwent was not your average wedding ceremony. It was powerfully magical, and the way my family and I see it, such ceremonies are binding for life. If we had been incompatible, it would never have taken place. I can assure you, there's been many a marriage which hasn't taken place, much to the displeasure of the families concerned, because the couple were not compatible. With us, it did go ahead, and there's no way to get out of it, so we have to make the best of it." He threaded his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of the silky strands that glided across his hand. She stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"I know all that, but it still doesn't change the fact that we're stuck with one another, and for what? That's what I want to know."

Deciding not to answer her question directly, he picked his words with care as he spoke. "It was an order from…him. That's why it was so rushed and we both had to be fed that awful potion to get us to comply at such short notice."

"Who, Voldemort?" she asked with a frown, ignoring his wince at the name. "What had he to do with it? I thought that he was all for the purity of the wizarding race; he hated Muggleborns."

"Yes, but even he recognised that without marrying Muggleborns, we would have died out. Kurbs-blood was on the increase and it was no longer logical to marry purebloods if you wanted to have children who didn't die at birth," he explained. "Now it's a taboo to marry purebloods; no one does it any more. There was talk of the Ministry putting a ban on it, but there was no need; survival means more to wizards than pure bloodlines."

She was silent, digesting his words. "I can't believe it, it seems incredible. Purebloods refusing to marry their own?" She shook her head in bewilderment.

He laughed. "Yep, it's become a bit of a trend these days to marry Muggleborns."

"Is that why your parents were okay with the marriage?" she asked, reverting back to her earlier question, eyes wide as she looked at him, her earlier animosity forgotten for the moment.

"Yes, plus the Dark Lord wanted it, and in those days, Father did everything the Dark Lord said." He hoped the bitterness in his voice was not too evident.

"In those days?" she queried with interest.

He paused, and then decided to tell her. She had to know at some time or another, and it might help to soften her attitude towards them. "Father changed sides soon after your disappearance. He felt responsible for it, you see, and began to question the Dark Lord's ideas and ways of thinking. My state of mind at the time was fuel to the fire if you like, and next thing we know, he's gone to Dumbledore and offered his assistance. Anyway, by that time, he, the Dark Lord that is, was so snake-like that he was becoming erratic and irrational. There were rumours that he was ill and losing his sanity. Your disappearance was the beginning of the end."

"How so?" she asked, perplexed, not objecting when he picked up a glass of iced lemonade from the table beside him and put it to her lips. She drank the cool liquid automatically, and he replaced the glass.

"There was anger on all sides; from Father because you had disappeared thanks to orders given by the Dark Lord that we were to be married in such haste, and from your old friends and Dumbledore who were all looking for you. It speeded up the war considerably."

"Then what?" she asked in a breathless voice. He smiled to himself; she was not as indifferent to the wizarding world as she would have him believe.

He moved closer and slid an arm around her, drawing her against him. "Well," he started, ignoring her attempts to pull away, "Father joined Dumbledore and told him all he knew, which naturally was a lot. The Order of the Phoenix raided all the dementor and giant camps that the Dark Lord had set up, and in this way diminished his army. The final battle as they call it, took place very near Stonehenge. It was rumoured that the Dark Lord had tried to use the magic of the stones for his own purposes, but it went wrong and he was weakened even more. Of course it was Potter who finished him off, disarmed him, and used both wands to cast the killing curse."

There was a silence as she stared into the depths of the pool. "The wizarding world must have been pleased," she commented thoughtfully.

"Yes, they were, although Father overheard one of the Order saying that a Lestintia would have finished him off without the need of two wands, but that he supposed that Potter had managed adequately, even though he botched it first time and had to cast the curse twice."

"What?" she turned to stare at him, eyes wide.

He laughed. "I know, incredible isn't it? Bet Potty wasn't happy about that. The first time, the curse didn't quite work, so he had to recast, and fast. A Lestintia would have done it first time, and with only the one wand, but the last one was Grindelwald himself, so that option was out of the question."

"Yes, I suppose so," she muttered, and shivered, wrapping her arms about herself in a protective manner.

He took the opportunity to cuddle her closer and smiled down at her. No doubt the thought of the battle was making her shudder; he could well understand it.

"And you?" she asked in a small voice. "What did you do while all this was going on?"

"Nothing. I didn't want anything to do with either side." He raised his left arm and showed her the unblemished skin of his forearm. He didn't want there to be any misunderstandings between them. "Actually, I wasn't well for a long time after the ceremony, just lethargic and dispirited. I was diagnosed with depression, which didn't lift until well after a year later.

He saw her eyes widen at this news, and knew without asking that he hadn't been the only one for whom life had become a chore.

"So, how long did it last for you?" he asked casually, watching her intently.

She was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh, for a good eighteen months or so. I was on anti-depressants to combat it, but they didn't really help. In the end, it sorted itself out." Then, changing the subject, she asked, "So what happened after the war?"

"There was a large scale regenerating programme, and that's when the taboo about marriage between purebloods started. Now it's practically unheard of. There was also a concerted move to bring our world closer to that of Muggles, and computers and telephones were introduced at the Ministry. Others soon took it up when they saw how convenient the appliances were." He helped himself to a glass of lemonade and gulped it down greedily. All this talking was making him thirsty.

"It seems to have changed so much," Hermione said quietly. "Is Hogwarts still open?"

"Of course, McGonagall's headmistress now, and Muggle studies is a compulsory subject. Hogwarts has one of the most up-to-date computer labs I know of." He grinned. "I got the idea for the structure of our own intranet by using them as a blueprint. It's turned out very well, even if I do say so myself. Of course, the big difference between our appliances and Muggle ones is that ours run on magic rather than electricity."

Pulling away from him, she got up and moved to the pool's edge, her expression thoughtful. He watched her in silence, knowing that she was trying to get to grips with all the information he had given her.

Finally she turned back to him, her mouth set in a determined line. "Look, this doesn't change anything you know. We've both moved on and made lives for ourselves. Neither of us can be expected to give them up just so that we can fulfill the requirements of a marriage that neither of us wanted. I for one am happy with my life; I enjoy my job and have made good friends. I'm sure that you, too, are the same, and don't want to give it all up."

He regarded her for a moment, and wondered once again why she was so determined to stay away from the wizarding world. It was clear that she didn't want to rejoin it, and he knew that this reluctance was only in part due to him. If only he could find out what it was, it would make his task a lot easier. All he knew for certain was that it had something to do with her old friends. This however was not the moment to ask, so he changed tack.

"Hermione, I'm not asking you to 'give it all up' as you put it. All I'm saying is that you can't ignore the world to which you rightly belong. We're here to stay, and ignoring us won't make us go away. I won't ask what happened between you and your old friends, but if you wish to avoid them, it's your decision. What, however, you can't get away from, is us. We're married and have to learn to live with it, and the first step to doing that is talking to each other, agreed?"

She didn't respond for a moment and he thought that he might have pushed things too far. Then to his relief, she gave a reluctant nod.

"Excellent," he beamed, watching as she unzipped her dress to reveal a one-piece bathing costume. Dropping it at her feet, she dived cleanly into the cool water, emerging moments later in the middle of the pool and swimming rapidly to the other side. Clearly she'd had enough of talking for the moment. He watched her do a few laps of the pool, and for the first time since he'd seen her again, felt the knot of tension within him loosen. She had agreed to speak to him; that was at least a start. The rest would come later; he was determined on that point. If she kept away from Potter and co, all the better for him.

Smiling to himself, he, too, stripped down to his bathing trunks and dived into the pool to join her. He would make the most of the present, and worry about the future when he had to. For the time being, he had found her and that was enough!


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: thanks for your reviews and my beta for editing this. As always, the disclaimer is at the start of the story.

Chapter Five

Sunlight filtered through the branches of the large palm tree under which Hermione lay, causing patterns of light to dance across the pages of the book she held. The drone of bees was all around her as they went about their business and butterflies fluttered overhead, their movements languid. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with bougainvillea drifted to her on the warm breeze and in spite of everything, she lay back enjoying the beauty of her surroundings.

She could see the small form of the house elf Teel, sitting not too far from her, his face turned towards her and she sighed. The creature had kept her company whenever Draco left her alone, always discrete but watchful of her every movement. She had tried to engage the elf in conversation once or twice during the night before, but he only seemed to speak French, a language to which she had had very little exposure and of which she barely knew ten words.

Her mind replayed the events of the last 36 hours and even now she shuddered, wishing that she'd left Megan and Angus to deal with Sophie without her help. Then none of this would have happened and she would still be at home in her small cottage, rather than here without a wand and in the company of Draco Malfoy of all people. She bit her lip, knowing there was no point in going over the past like this. What she had to do now was get away from here and quickly. Then maybe she could decide what to do and put her life into some semblance of order.

The sound of muted footsteps reached her and turning her head, she saw Draco making his way towards her followed by another house elf bearing a tray.

"Enjoying the sunshine?" he asked sitting down on the blanket beside her and grinning.

The elf placed the tray before them and with a crack disappeared.

"I thought you may like some refreshment," Draco continued, offering her a plate of French pastries. "These have just come out of the oven and are delicious!"

"We only had breakfast a while ago," she replied shaking her head. "I'm not hungry thanks."

He took one of the confections and leaning forward, placed it against her lips. "Go on, just one bite," he enticed. "I promise you won't regret it."

She inhaled the smell of the freshly baked pastry and knew she was fighting a losing battle. She bit into it and felt the pastry melt in her mouth. "All I seem to do here is eat," she took it from him. "It's not good for me."

"Says who?" he asked, helping himself and stretching out beside her. "We're enjoying a break, and one of the things people do when on Holiday is eat."

She refrained from pointing out that she didn't consider kidnap the same as a holiday and merely nodded. She had to be nice to him, for as things stood at the moment, she was defenceless in an alien environment. Not having used magic in so long, she was hesitant to try it and as a consequence, felt very vulnerable. In order to get out of this idyllic place and return to her every day life, she had to rely on the man sitting beside her, and that meant biting her tongue and curbing her temper, something she had been doing since she had woken up in the villa the day before.

Deciding to change the subject she asked, "How are your business interests coming along?"

His expression became sombre for a moment and then he shrugged. "Oh ok thanks. I've just sent back the documents father wanted me to look over, everything's as it should be. How was your friend? Still furious with me I bet."

He was referring to the telephone conversations he had insisted she make to both her family and Megan that morning. To her surprise, he had lent her his mobile to do this, leaving her alone. She suspected that he had probably recorded the conversations in some way, to replay later and hence remained on her guard as she assured both ladies that she was ok.

"Well you can't blame her. Meg and her family aren't used to wizards, so you scared the living daylights out of them when you turned up like that. Luckily the ministry agreed not to modify her and Angus's memories and I managed to convince her that I was in no danger," she replied.

"And the brat? Is she ok?" He helped himself to another pastry as he spoke.

"Sophie's not a brat thank you very much! In answer to your question, she's fine and doesn't remember anything of that night." She hesitated for a moment, and then went on. "Meg wanted to know when I'd be back and that's something I too would like to know."

"What's the hurry? Your job will be waiting for you, so there's no need to fret. Anyway, I want to spend some time with you. Surely you can't begrudge me that after all these years."

She paused, unsure how to answer that. "Of course not, but this isn't a good time to take a break," she finally said deciding on a diplomatic response.

"Oh? So, if I ask you to come away with me during your school holidays, you'll agree?" his brows were raised in disbelief as he brushed crumbs off his t- shirt.

"If we got on, I don't see why not."

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then changed the subject. "So, thought any more about rejoining the wizarding world?"

He had asked her this question the night before and she had evaded it. Now however, the gleam in his eyes told her that he would not be diverted. "I don't know," she hedged. "There's a lot to be considered before I can make that decision."

"Such as what?"

"Oh all sorts," she answered vaguely. "My life in the muggle world for example. Rejoining the wizarding world would have consequences on that."

"Only if you wanted it to do so," he argued, moving closer to her. "You need to look forward Hermione, and the best way to do that is by taking an interest in the world you left."

She was silent as she fiddled with a blade of grass, conscious of the warmth of his body beside hers. There was of course, no way she could expect to go back to the life she had lead these past six years, Draco would make sure of that, but at the same time she didn't feel ready to confront the world she had left. There were too many deep-running scars which she was not sure had healed.

"The Fidelius," she said eventually turning to face him. "Is it completely destroyed?"

It was Draco's turn to be silent. Then he said, "I'm not sure to be honest. Father managed to find out where you worked and so on, although how he did so is a mystery to me. He couldn't locate your house itself, which makes me think that the charm must still be active to some degree and protecting your whereabouts to everyone but me. He only told me this morning which makes me think that he must have spent yesterday trying to find it." A worried frown crossed his face.

"Him and the rest of the wizarding world," she retorted. "You said yesterday that the press would be swarming all over it. Why the change of tune?"

"I had thought the charm was completely gone, but today Father told me otherwise."

Again that worried look crossed his face and she asked, "What's wrong? You look troubled."

"Father shouldn't be working himself like this, his health isn't up to it," he responded pensively.

Hermione's eyes widened with interest. "Oh? What's wrong with him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Of course I don't, you're family after all. He has a weak heart, has done for a while now and all this pressure isn't good for him. He retired from the business a few years ago and I'm worried that the stress of things may be damaging."

She was tempted to ask how the formidable Lucius Malfoy had managed to succumb to something as trivial as a weak heart, but decided against it. There would be time enough to find out later. Now though, she had an idea.

"Hmm, the Press are probably giving him a hard time. I presume Hannah Abbot must have told the Ministry that she'd seen me?" she asked casually, already knowing the answer.

"Of course! It was headline news yesterday morning." He paused for a moment, and then went on, "Your old friends tried to storm into the Manor to see you when they heard; some things don't change and their inability to exercise subtlety is one of them."

Teaching had taught her not to give anything away in her body language and facial expression, so she looked back at him, her face impassive. Her stomach though was churning uncomfortably at this news.

"Your father must be feeling the pressure," she commented lightly, ignoring his last remark. Then taking a deep breath, said, "Forgive me for saying this, but do you think it's fair on him to put him through all this rigmarole, his health being so precarious? God forbid, but what if his heart was to protest at the strain of all this worry and pressure? I mean he has your organisation to run, plus the Press and the people I used to know to fend off. That's quite an undertaking for the healthiest of us."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "He looked pretty haggard when I spoke to him just now, although he'd never admit it."

She put a hand on his arm, her heart beating quickly. "Look, wouldn't it be better if we went back to Britain? You know where I live now and probably every other detail about my life, so you can contact me as and when you like. Your father needs your help, it's not right to leave him and your mother to face the music, while we enjoy ourselves out here."

He considered her for a long moment, eyes raking over her face. Then getting up, he began to pace up and down in front of her, his expression remote. "I don't know," he muttered. "I really don't know."

She watched him with bated breath, not daring to speak or do anything that may jeopardise her chances of getting away.

"Six years I've spent looking for you, I can't just let you go like this. But Father-" Draco broke off and a thoughtful expression she didn't like crossed his face.

"What?" she asked warily.

"Stay here, I'll be back in a Minute," he responded briefly. Then he called, "Teel?"

He gave the elf a few brief instructions in French and left her. The elf sat down, his large eyes fixed unblinkingly on her.

Hermione sighed loudly and helped herself to another pastry, while wondering what Draco was up to. By the look in his eyes, it wasn't something she was going to like.

A few minutes later, he was back, a smile lighting his features. "Right, I've found a way of getting round the problem which although is not ideal, should benefit each of us," he said, dropping down beside her once more. "However, this doesn't mean that you can ignore what's happened." He waved a hand between them. "I've no intention of letting this…us, go so don't even consider running away."

"Fat chance," she muttered, guessing that the Fidelius had probably been overridden by the magic of their marriage vows, making her home accessible to him whenever he wanted.

"You can't blame me for not trusting you."

"I can't be blamed for wanting my own space," she challenged.

"Arguing won't get us anywhere," he responded resolutely. "Now, for my own peace of mind, I'm going to put a tracking charm on you. Nothing awful I assure you, but a bit of insurance in case you decide to go walk about on me."

"I would have thought that having access to my home was insurance enough," she retorted, not liking the sound of this tracking charm. She was sure that he would have used plenty of such charms on her already, so was wary of this one.

"You're not leaving here without it, so you've no choice."

"What does it involve?" she asked to give herself more time to think.

"Very little. Just a slight pricking of your finger."

"What? Blood Magic? No!" She drew away from him, eyes wide. "That's illegal, even I know that!"

"Not in France it's not, providing certain restrictions are observed of course. It's either that or stay here. Take your pick!" His expression was steely as he surveyed her.

"But, why? There are plenty of other charms that you could use,"

She protested, not liking the sound of this charm one bit.

"None are as effective as that one. Now, shall we get it over with?" He held out his hand for hers. "It won't take long and once it's done, we can each find the other simply by closing our eyes and imagining the other. The bond will apparate us to where the other is. Nice and neat, even if I do say so myself."

She hesitated, torn between her desire to get away and reluctance to go through with this charm which involved blood, something she had been taught verged on dark magic.

"I don't know," she prevaricated, unsure what to do.

"Hermione, it won't hurt I promise. As you said, Father's under a lot of pressure at the moment and being ill, isn't coping with it that well. The charm will ensure that we can both find each other if the need arises, nothing more, I've made sure of that." He took her face between his hands and caressed her jaw with the tips of his fingers. "Do you think I'd use any charm that would harm you?"

"No, but-"

"It's just a stronger version of the tracking charm, that's all," he coaxed, tucking a few escaped strands of hair behind her ears. "Once I've performed the charm, I'll take you to your home, ok?"

She bit her lip in thought, knowing that she had little choice but to agree if she wanted to leave the villa. Wishing she had some knowledge of what she was getting herself into, she nodded glumly.

He dropped his hands and pulled out his wand. "Excellent, if I could have your hand."

Reluctantly, she gave him her hand and watched with trepidation as he made a small cut to her finger with his wand. Then he repeated the same procedure with his own finger and before she could pull away, pressed the two cuts together so that the blood oozing from both was mixed. At the same moment, he muttered a few words in French and withdrew his hand. A wand flick later, both cuts had been healed and he sat back.

"There you go, all done," he beamed. "I'll accompany you to your home just to make sure that I can enter it and so on before going to our head office in central London." Then his expression sobering, he went on, "I warn you though, one attempt to hide yourself in any way and I'll cast a binding charm on you so strong, you won't be able to move five steps away from me without feeling the effects."

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing rejoinder but stopped herself. She was close to getting away from here and didn't want to do anything that would make him change his mind. "I doubt the protection spells and this blood charm will let me," she responded with a bitter smile. "You've no need to worry."

A cynical laugh greeted these words. "Oh, but I do worry my darling Hermione, I worry all the time and with good reason."

Choosing to ignore this remark, she asked instead, "So when do we go?"

"As soon as it can be arranged I think. I'll have the portkey drop us off at the end of Meddowtree Avenue and we can walk to your house from there."

So, he knew the name of her road, she wondered how he had found out but decided not to enquire just yet.

He was thoughtful for a moment, then called "Ett?"

There was a crack announcing the arrival of Ett, one of the few English speaking elves in the Villa and Hermione felt her heart lift.

"Master called for Ett?" the elf squeaked, eyes moving over them curiously.

"Yes, prepare the portkey; we're going to return to Britain."

The elf's ears drooped at this news and she stared at them, her large eyes filling with tears. "Isn't Master pleased with us? We was thinking that as Master has the young mistress with him that he would be happy now and stay for a while."

Draco let out an impatient sigh. "The reasons are too complex to go into but be assured it has nothing to do with you or any of the other elves. Your housekeeping is as good as ever."

The elf perked up at this praise and pointing a finger at the tray vanished with it.

"I must be mad to even be considering this," he muttered, holding out a hand and drawing Hermione to her feet. "Come on, before I change my mind."

They walked through the peaceful gardens, both immersed in their own thoughts. Hermione wondered when she'd see this luxurious villa again with its colourful and tranquil grounds and a tiny part of her was sorry that she couldn't stay longer. In the last twenty-four hours, she had been pampered more than she had ever been before. It was no wonder the Malfoys' loved this place. Even the weather here was favourable, warm and barmy, reminding her of summer rather than autumn.

Ett greeted them as they stepped on to the terrace, holding out a small ornamental box covered in tiny shells. Draco looked thoughtfully at the box, then turned his penetrating gaze on Hermione and she held her breath, knowing the struggle he must be going through. Finally he sighed again and took the box. "Activate it when I say so," he instructed the elf. Then offered the box to Hermione and trying not to look too eager, she grasped the other end.

"I'll probably regret this," he muttered and nodded to the elf. Ett raised a long forefinger to point at the box and instantly, Hermione felt herself jerked forward as though a hook had been attached to her middle and her feet left the ground, her hand glued to the portkey which was speeding them back to Britain.

She had shut her eyes against the myriad of colours that pressed in on her from all sides and so was not prepared when her feet slammed into the ground. She staggered and almost lost her balance.

"Careful," Draco said, catching her arm and steadying her.

She leaned against him while the world around her stopped spinning. Then slowly she opened her eyes and stared bemusedly at the thicket of trees by which they were surrounded. A cold breeze skimmed over her exposed arms and she shivered. There was no sun to be seen, and dark clouds scudded across the sky.

"Are you ok?" Draco asked, stowing the portkey in his pocket. "Not having used a portkey in so long, you probably feel disorientated."

"You're telling me," she responded, stepping away from him. "Come on, I know where we are. The sooner we get in doors the better it'll be. It's freezing here compared to France."

She moved out from behind the thicket and began to make her brisk way up her road, Draco walking beside her. He wrapped an arm round her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She was grateful for his body heat, so she didn't pull away. She still felt disorientated but was glad to be back in familiar territory once more.

"My house is a little further along." She said, hoping that none of the neighbours were looking through their windows at this moment and quickened her steps. The last thing she needed was nosy neighbours questioning her about Draco.

"Nice place, very picturesque," he commented looking round him with interest as they walked along the deserted road.

To her relief, they reached her cottage without meeting anyone and she frowned as they walked up the front path. She would have to unearth her extra set of keys as those she normally used were at Megan's house. Moving round to the flowerbed beneath the bay window, she bent down and inserted a finger into the small gap between the stone of the bed and the wall. She soon found the loose stone for which she was looking and prising it up with difficulty, pulled from beneath it, her emergency set of keys.

"Ingenious hiding place," Draco commented leaning against the fence watching her. "A simple unlocking charm would have been just as adequate and a lot less hassle you know."

Ignoring him, she unlocked the front door and stepped into the house, Draco right behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief as the heavy front door closed behind them with a satisfying thud. It was good to be home and out of that cold wind.

He followed her into the sitting room, his eyes sweeping round it in blatant curiosity. "Cosy," he murmured, waving a hand round the room. "Did you buy this place?"

"No, it was my grandmother's but she died and it stood empty for a while. Then I moved in."

He crossed to the windows and looked out on to the neat garden. "Hmm, yes, very nice indeed. At least I can see the place and have access to it. I rather like the fact that only I can do so, it'll give you privacy from the rest of our world."

She bit back a sarcastic response and settled for nodding.

He drew out his wand and began to move it in complicated patterns through the air, brows furrowed in concentration. "Hmmm, there're very powerful wards here, most of which I've never seen before. I'm no expert on such matters, but even I can tell that the wards on this place would do Gringott's proud. Yes, very interesting indeed."

Hermione felt her heart sink. Soon he would return to asking her about the identity of her Secret-Keeper, something he had wanted to know since she had woken up at the villa the day before and refused to tell him.

"So who cast these wards?" he asked predictably enough. "It can't have been Dumbledore, so who else?"

"Does it matter?" she retorted, trying not to look at the wand in his hand.

"Not in the least now. I just wondered as the spell work that went into creating some of these is pretty impressive. The person obviously knew what they were doing. I could use the services of him or her in our offices."

She was silent and he sighed loudly.

"Fine, don't tell me then. Either way, it doesn't matter any more. I should really go now and see what's happening in the office. I'll be back this evening though, shall I bring dinner with me?"

"If you don't mind, I've lots to do today. For a start, the plants need watering, then there's the marking I need to get done that I missed before and so on."

"Not in the least." He moved to stand in front of her and caught her to him in a fierce hug, his arms wrapping tightly about her, so that she was pressed up against him with not a hair's breath between them. He pressed his face into her hair, his hands splaying out across her back in a possessive gesture and trapping her arms by her sides.

"What-"

"You're mine, remember that," he muttered, shaking her for emphasis. "Mine and no one else's!" Taking his left arm from around her, he tipped her face up and pressed his mouth to hers in a thorough and demanding kiss which left her gasping.

"Kiss me back Hermione," he ordered lifting his head.

"But," she stammered taken aback, "I can't…"

"You were perfectly happy to kiss that other man, so go on. Kiss your own husband. I won't release you until you do." His arms tightened about her and she could feel the contours of his body pressing into hers.

She stared up at him, irritation rising up within her. "Why should I?"

"Because I'd like you to do so. I can't be expected to do all the giving in our relationship now can I? Anyway, a kiss is a small price to pay for being returned to your home earlier than you'd envisaged."

"Fine," she snapped, and pulling his head down to hers, kissed him fleetingly before drawing back.

"So clinical," he mocked. "Dear, dear, I'll have to teach you how to kiss with feeling and not like a proverbial iceberg, but not now." Then he released her, breathing hard. "I'm afraid to let you out of my sight, you know that?"

"There's no need to be, the Fidelius is no-longer effective on you," she replied, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"That's true, but still." He drew her to him again. "I'd better go and see how father's getting on, I'll come 'round about 7, is that ok?"

"Yes, fine."

"Until later then." He kissed her again, then stepping back, he turned and with a crack had disapparated, leaving her alone.

Hermione sat down on the sofa, greatful for it's solid bulk beneath her and leaned back. She savoured the feeling of being completely alone, something she had not been for a good two days now. She lay back and let the silence engulf her.

Her mind went back over the last two days and she was surprised that Draco had let her go as easily as he had. His father must be quite unwell for him to break off their time together. Maybe the war had had a detrimental effect on the man; either way, she had little sympathy for him.

The yearning that had reared its ugly head the night before now rose up within her once more. It had attacked her as she lay in a splendid four-poster bed in one of the best bedrooms with Teel watching over her. The yearning to hold a wand in her hand and feel the magic pulsing through her own body was great and she wasn't sure could be denied for too much longer. She had suppressed it these past six years although it had been extremely difficult at first. It seemed that being with Draco and the house-elves had triggered it again and this time, it was proving even harder to fight. The sight of Draco's wand hadn't helped matters and she had wanted to snatch it from his hand and let the magic flow through her.

The shrill ringing of the phone made her jump and she stared at the instrument in alarm. Had someone in the wizarding world managed to get hold of her phone number even though she was ex-directory?

Getting up slowly, she walked over to the still ringing phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hermione, is that you?" Quentin's voice came over the line and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Quentin! Thank heaven's it's you," she blurted out, collapsing on the chair by the phone.

"Your two-way mirror, where is it? We need to talk and I can't be sure the line isn't bugged."

"I'll go and find it and call you when I've done so."

"Good, be quick." He rang off and she replaced the receiver.

Running upstairs, she went into her bedroom and began opening draws looking for the small mirror Quentin had given her four years or so ago. She finally located it in the back of the wardrobe behind her jewellery box and with trembling fingers, unwrapped the tissue from around it. She had only used the mirror on a handful of occasions, usually to request a meeting with Quentin. She was now glad she had it. Wiping the glass free of dust and grime, she called "Quentin Trimble" and waited.

Instantly, Quentin's face appeared in the mirror and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hermione, I suspect we've not much time so I'll be quick. Are you ok?" he asked with concern. "When I heard that you'd been found, I thought I'd have a heart attack. What happened?"

"It was Sophie, Megan's youngest. She's the magical child you told me of a few weeks ago. She had a tantrum, the shelf on the wall flew off and hit me. Of course that activated the safety vow and before I knew it, Draco was in the room with us."

"I was afraid that something like this would happen," he sighed. "Then what?"

"I'm not too sure. Draco says that he took me back to Malfoy Manor and a healer mended my left arm and shoulder which had been broken. Then he took me to their Villa in the south of France and that's where we've been since. I only got back a few minutes ago."

"Yes, I know. I put a charm on the house to let me know when you returned and was alone. Hermione, are you ok though? He didn't do anything to you…"

She smiled grimly. "Yes, I'm fine. No, nothing happened although that wasn't for lack of trying on his part."

Quentin snorted derisively. "I bet! Luckily, your marriage vows won't let him rape you so at least you're protected on that front."

"What happens if he tries?" she asked with interest.

"From what I can gather, he won't feel the urge to try. Rape is the same as harming you and he won't do that. It goes against the nature of the vows themselves; I suspect that if he felt so negatively about you, the marriage could never have taken place. Mind you, I'm surprised to see you back so quickly."

"He only let me go because he was worried about his father. Apparently Lucius Malfoy's in bad health and Draco didn't think he could cope with handling things alone." She paused then continued, "He put a tracking charm on me that I don't like the sound of though."

"Oh? "

"He insisted on it. He used Blood to seal the charm by pricking both our fingers and letting the blood intermingle. Then he said something in French and that was it."

Quentin was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he said, "I think I know of the charm. It's one the French developed in the tenth century and acts like a tracking charm, but allows the instigator to find his or her err, partner, simply by imagining him or her. The other person can do this as well but it's much harder. Trust him to use that one."

"Is it dangerous in some way?" she asked, wishing she could find out more about it for herself.

"No, just intrusive. Young men used to use it on their fiancés. Of course once the marriage had been consummated, the charm was no-longer active as the protection spells invoked during the ceremony were activated."

She digested this information in silence. Then hesitantly, asked, "Is it really such big news then?"

There was no need for her to explain further for he nodded. "Yes. The papers are full of speculation about you and more than one person has tried to delve into your muggle life by using various charms. I've managed to cover the information up, but not before Lucius Malfoy found out where you worked and so on."

"Thanks." She smiled into the mirror. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"So what now Hermione?" he asked gently. "What are you going to do now, rejoin the wizarding world?"

"To be honest, I don't know," she replied slowly. "So much has happened, I need time to process it all and pull myself together. Luckily the Fidelius is still active to everyone other than Draco - that gives me a bit of time to think things through."

"If it's any comfort, I've put a blocking spell on your house so that magic can't be detected. I didn't do so before as I wasn't sure how it would react to the other spells on the house but thought you'd need it now. You know where I am if you need me," he responded. "Now, that husband of yours will no doubt pay you an unexpected call, to try out that charm if nothing else, so I'd better say good bye."

"Yes, very true. Thanks though for everything that you've done," she said glancing warily over her shoulder.

"Take care Hermione and speak soon."

Then his face was gone and the mirror showed her reflection, frowning back at her from the glass. Swiftly she repacked it and put it back in the wardrobe. Quentin was right, Draco was liable to turn up at any moment and it wouldn't do for him to see her talking to Quentin.

She busied herself, opening windows and watering the plants, the mundane tasks helping to soothe her taut nerves. She was sorting through the mail when she felt the slight displacement of air behind her and arms wrap themselves around her waist.

"My, you do look busy," Draco purred in her ear.

Stiffening, she turned to face him. "I thought you weren't visiting until this evening, has there been a change in plan?"

"No, I just thought I'd try out the charm, so here I am," he smiled. "Aren't you going to welcome me?"

"I'm rather busy," she glanced pointedly at the letters on the hall table and he gave her a wounded look.

"I know when I'm not wanted," he said with a mock-sigh. "Ah well, I'd better get back to work. See you later." Then before she could pull away, he had kissed her lightly and disapparated.

Slowly she put down the letters she was holding, knowing that he had satisfied himself that the charm was active. Hopefully now, he wouldn't feel the need to barge in on her before the evening.

She went into the sitting room and stared out at the garden, her mind in turmoil. What should she do now? Draco probably knew all there was to know about her, and was determined to be a part of her life. It was reasonable to assume that if he knew all about her, his parents did so as well. Luckily, they couldn't visit her home which was still protected by the Fidelius. She shuddered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy visiting her home whenever he chose.

She felt trapped; no-longer could she hide from the life she had once lead, it seemed to be catching up with her with alarming rapidity. She wondered exactly what the wizarding world knew about her and felt a feeling of helplessness wash over her. Maybe she could ask Draco to bring a copy of the Daily Prophet with him later, but did she really want to know more about the wizarding world than she needed to?

Absently, she watched a blackbird foraging in the soil of the vegetable plot for worms and envied it its freedom. It was answerable to no one, doing what it liked and not having to look over its shoulder every ten seconds. How she wished she could be so free, to travel where she liked without having to worry about being recognised.

As it had been doing since the day before, the idea prodded insistently at her mind and she frowned. It would certainly give her some protection from Draco and his awful family. However, she couldn't remember the last time she had transformed into her animagus form and wasn't even sure that she was able to any more. It was over six years ago that she had last attempted the transformation and then she had only been able to do it due to constant practice. Did she dare risk it?

She began to pace the room, her mind dwelling on the hours she, Ron and Harry had spent practicing for the transformation. The hours of stretching and flexing, in preparation, she would not easily forget. Being much fitter now, this shouldn't be the biggest of her problems. Hopefully with practice, she should regain the suppleness that was needed. She wondered where the book was that had detailed the exercises and had a nasty feeling that Harry had it. Brilliant, that would mean that she would need to get hold of it.

They had also needed the aid of the potion to help them. She didn't dare attempt the transformation without it, it was too risky. There had been a charm which she could have used, but again, that was in the book that Harry had, which left the potion, the recipe for which she had somewhere. Now, cut off from the wizarding world, she had no way of obtaining the ingredients for the potion. She supposed she could ask Quentin to get them for her, but hesitated. How would he react to the news that she was an unregistered animagus? She wasn't even sure where he was right now. For all she knew, he could be at home in New Zealand, making it impractical for him to send her the ingredients.

There was no one else she could ask. Draco was of course out of the question and she had no contact with anyone else in the wizarding world. She supposed she could ask Chris Langford, the son of one of the other village residence but he was at Hogwarts right now. Anyway, it would raise a lot of suspicion if she were to make such an odd request of a boy she barely knew. No, there was only one certain way she could hope to get hold of the ingredients and that was by getting them herself.

One thing was startlingly clear, which ever way she looked at the situation. She could no-longer avoid using magic. Reluctantly she acknowledged that it was time to resume use of her wand. The thought did nothing to cheer her mind but her body, denied of this life-giving force for so long, rejoiced.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Finally here it is. Thanks so much to my beta and everyone for your patience.

Disclaimer: No recognisable characters are mine, though the plot and any other characters do belong to me.

Chapter Six

"I'll put all these things in the spare bedroom, shall I?" Peter Granger asked, heaving a trunk full of books up the narrow staircase of Hermione's cottage with difficulty.

"Yes thanks," she answered picking up a box of papers and following him up. "I'll sort them all out later on. How was your journey?"

"Oh not bad, we didn't hit any traffic which is always a blessing," Lynn panted, bringing up the rear with another box.

Peter nodded and went down the stairs to fetch the last of the boxes. "That's the lot," he sighed in relief. "We had a real job getting this lot down from the attic."

"It's much appreciated," Hermione smiled, leading the way downstairs. "Sorry for the short notice by the way."

The talk was general as Hermione set out platters of cold meats and salad and she was relieved that her parents hadn't started asking questions right away. Having been on the road for the past few hours, she suspected the need for food had dampened their curiosity for the time being, and they tucked into the lunch Hermione had prepared.

The next ten minutes was spent eating, and Hermione wondered how much her parents knew. They had not been surprised when she had rung first thing that morning asking them to bring all her old books and things to the cottage, merely agreeing to be there in a few hours. Judging by the guarded expressions on their faces however, she guessed that they too were nervous.

"So, what's going on?" Peter finally asked, as he helped himself to more ham. "Apparently, it's all over the wizarding world that you've been found. Ron and Harry came round first thing Friday morning to ask if we knew anything about it."

Hermione smiled mirthlessly as she handed round more salad. "Not much happened, a charm that one of my old school associates put on me before I left broke and he tracked my whereabouts."

"I see," Lynn frowned consideringly, laying down her cutlery. "Who? Do we know him or her?"

There was no point in not telling them. "Draco Malfoy."

"Why was it he who found you and not Ron and Harry?" an interested Peter asked, watching her closely across the dining table.

Hermione hesitated as she put the breadboard back in the kitchen. Then knowing she had to tell them something, replied, "Because he put a complex tracking charm on me all those years ago which activated when the shelf hit me."

"Ouch," Peter winced in sympathy. "So have you seen Ron and Harry?"

"Oh no. The charm was very complex and all the magical protection around this place is intact so no one other than Draco knows where I am. It's all very complicated," she said in a light voice which belied the truth.

"But he'll have told Ron and Harry won't he?" Lynn asked, as Hermione handed her a steaming mug of tea.

Hermione chose her words carefully wondering how much to tell them. "No, the protection spells on the cottage won't let him. Anyway, they've never really got on so even if he could, I doubt he would."

"I suppose," Peter agreed sounding unsure.

"That's a point, how is it that you and he are on friendly terms? He told me that you got on well," Hermione questioned brows raised.

"He's a nice man Hermione, very polite and friendly," Lynn replied swiftly, clearly on the defensive.

"He's one of the reasons I left that world and there's you making friends with the man," Hermione cried indignantly. Why didn't you tell me you were in contact with him? He told me all about it, how he got to know you and everything! All this time and you've never breathed a word. " She was more than relieved to be talking about someone other than herself so showed all the indignity she could muster.

"Because we knew how you'd react. At first we too were dubious about him but over time, we got to know him. He's a sobering influence on Matthew and I for one am not sorry for that," Lynn smiled.

"He knows Mathew?" Hermione cried, secretly unsurprised at this revelation. If she knew anything about Draco, it was that he didn't do things by halves. "I don't believe this!"

"Calm down Hermione. This is precisely why we didn't say anything. For one, it wasn't our place to do so, and secondly, Draco was very concerned about you," her father put in. "Naturally, we can't tell him anything about you but he's still kept in touch."

"I can't believe you all went behind my back in this," Hermione grumbled, as she began clearing away the used crockery. "Nice family you are talking to him without my knowledge. He was one of the reasons I left that world and there you are cultivating a friendship with him!" In comparison with the happenings of the last few days, this was a mild surprise but still she was annoyed.

"Just one of the reasons?" Peter seized on her words. "What were your other reasons for leaving the wizarding world?"

Hermione scowled. "The climate in those times wasn't safe for muggleborns, it was best to get out before I was thrown out. Staying in that world would have endangered you as well. Anyway, we're diverting from Ron and Harry."

Her parents exchanged glances. "We see them now and again," her father shrugged, "but not very often."

"Oh? That's surprising," Hermione frowned diverted. "I'd have thought they would have kept in touch with you."

Peter shook his head. "No, Ron and Harry are the impulsive type, if they can't get an answer from one source, they'll stop using it. Quite short-sighted one might say."

"Yes, I suppose," Hermione agreed reluctantly. Her father was right, it would not occur to them to keep in touch with her parents just in case, as Draco had done.

"But the war ended a few years ago, you could have rejoined the wizarding world then," Peter suggested leaning back in his chair and eyeing her thoughtfully.

Hermione shrugged in what she hoped was a casual manner. "Such prejudices take a long time to die down Dad. It was safest for me to stay where I was. Anyway, I've built up a life for myself here; I don't want to change it."

Her parents exchanged looks, relief evident on both faces. She knew they had been proud of her achievements at Hogwarts but more than delighted when she had decided to rejoin the world they understood. They had avoided mentioning the wizarding world as much as possible over the last six years and would not push her to go back now. If it were up to them, they would want her to have nothing to do with magic although wild horses wouldn't make them admit this.

"Fair enough, it's up to you. But we're veering away from the point, what are you going to do now that the news has got out about you having been found?" Peter asked with a furrowed brow.

"I'm not sure yet," Hermione admitted fiddling with a teaspoon, "I need to think about it some more."

"Then why do you want all your old books and things?" Peter persisted.

"Just to do some reading. I may not want to rejoin that world, but I can't ignore it either. Not now."

"No, I suppose not-" Lynn broke off, her eyes widening as she stared over Hermione's left shoulder.

Hermione didn't need to turn around to see what had caught Lynn's attention. The slight breeze behind her, was warning enough of Draco's arrival.

"Well, well, this is a nice surprise," he drawled, pushing Hermione back down into her seat when she made to stand, and taking the seat beside her. "How are you Peter and Lynn? It's been a while."

Hermione's parents both smiled awkwardly although she could see Draco's arrival had caught them off guard. They weren't used to seeing people appearing in front of them seemingly out of thin air.

"We're fine thanks," Peter replied uncertainly, clearly trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

Draco, completely at his ease, moved his chair so it was closer to Hermione's and to her annoyance, slid a possessive arm round her. "That's good, I wasn't aware you were coming down today or I would have made it a point to be here and greet you. You should have told me Hermione."

"It must have slipped my mind," she said hurriedly, seeing her mother about to speak. It would never do for him to know that she had asked her parents to bring her wizarding books and the trip was unplanned. Her parents seemed to get the hint for they both nodded.

"Oh yes, the trip up here has been planned for a while now. You can't just decide on the spur of the moment, the journey's far too long," Peter corroborated, his expression bland.

"I see," Draco smiled again, his eyes travelling between Hermione and her parents. "I presume you'll be staying for a while?"

"Oh no, we'll drop in on some friends who only live a few miles away," Peter said and Hermione could have kicked him. "After all, it's not everyday you come this way, so we thought we'd kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

"Good idea," Draco sat back, his arm tightening around Hermione.

"Well, we'd best be on our way," Lynn stood up, and pulled on her jacket.

"But you've only finished lunch," Hermione protested, also jumping up, Draco beside her. "You can't go yet."

"We'll leave the two of you in peace," Peter also stood. "Anyway, Eileen will be expecting us soon. Take care and Hermione, ring soon."

It seemed that their minds were made up for no amount of arguing on Hermione's part would make them change them.

Having said their goodbyes, she watched as they got into their car and drove away.

"You should have told me your parents were coming today," Draco said closing the front door and turning to her. "They must have thought me very rude coming in like that half way through lunch."

"I'm sure they didn't mind," she snapped marching back into the dining room and picking up the used crockery. "It's not as though they came to see you."

"Ouch, someone's in a temper," he drawled, levitating the crockery out of her hands and to the kitchen with a flick of his wand.

"Is there a reason you're' here?" she asked scowling, her eyes taking in his lithe form clad in jeans and a cashmere jumper.

"To see my wife, what other reason do I need?" he countered smoothly.

Turning away, she began tidying up, her back to him.

"Hermione, I'm speaking to you!" he turned her back to face him, and before she could pull away, brought his mouth down on hers in a none-too-gentle kiss.

Anger began to ignite within her and she tried to push him away but to no avail. At her struggles, he lifted his head.

"Don't," he said quietly releasing her. "I don't know what you're angry about but don't take it out on me."

"No?" she flared back. "How would you feel if your privacy was taken away from you? I can't move a step and there you are behind me. Have you any idea how that feels?"

His eyes were boring into her like drills and any other time, she would have looked away. Now however, she simply glared back.

"Why do you think that is?" he drawled in a deceptively quiet voice ignoring her question.

"You know the charm works, so what's the problem?" she through back, her frustration evident as she straightened the dining chairs with trembling hands.

"The problem, my dear wife, is that we've been apart for over six years. That makes a person a little wary one might say." His voice too had taken on a bitter note but Hermione ignored this.

"I don't see why. You know where I am and thanks to you, I can't go anywhere without you knowing about it," she snapped back, determined to make her point.

He let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "No, you can't and a good job too! Anyway, that's not why I'm here. Mother and Father would like it if you came to dinner at the manor this evening. As they can't visit you here, they've asked you to go there instead."

"No thanks," she replied coldly. "I've better things to do with my time than make stilted conversation with your parents." She could have added more but bit the words back.

"Such as?"

"Seeing my friends, marking of examination papers, dusting, shopping, that kind of thing."

"That reminds me, I'll bring one of the house elves to take care of you here," he informed her.

"Oh no you won't, I don't want an elf here. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own housework thanks very much," came the sharp retort as she shook out the table cloth.

He gave her a searching look. "Why do you insist on making your life more difficult than needs be? A house elf would save you hours of chores."

"It may surprise you to know, but I enjoy doing my own chores," came the sarcastic rejoinder.

His mouth tightened but he said no more on the subject, instead reverting back to their previous discussion. "So, you'll come this evening?"

"I told you, no. One, I haven't time, but apart from that, I'm not ready to see anyone else yet!"

There was a pause. Then to her surprise, he shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Fair enough, I can accept that. I'll come round later; I've the company books to look over before this evening."

Taking her by the shoulders, he bent and placed his mouth on hers and waited. When she didn't move, he lifted his head and drawled, "Aren't I going to get a kiss goodbye Hermione?"

Her expression was mutinous as she glared back at him.

"Just one kiss, surely not too much to ask? I won't go until you have you know." His voice had hardened and she knew that to get rid of him she would have to comply however much she disliked it.

Leaning forward, she gave him the briefest of kisses and drew sharply away.

"Such condescension," he tutted, "I should be honoured. One day, I must give you some proper lessons in kissing. For the time being though, I'll see you later," he said, straightening and stepping back.

She nodded and a moment later, he had disapparated leaving her alone.

XoXoXoXo

The piece of parchment was crumpled and like everything else in the trunk, grimy with dust. Carefully, Hermione brushed off the dust until the ink was clearly visible. As she had thought, it merely contained the instructions for the potion and not the charm. She groaned inwardly knowing that she had no means of obtaining the incantation for the charm so the potion it would have to be. Then getting up, she closed the trunk, and pushed it under the bed of the spare room before picking up the parchment and a dusty bag containing some wizarding money. She had spent the last hour sorting through her old school things looking for the parchment detailing the recipe for the potion she had once used to help her change to her animagus form. Of course trying to suppress the memories of that time had been difficult and she felt raw as she made her way into the attic. It didn't take long to unearth the wand hidden behind a pile of boxes containing odds and ends and as she pulled it out of its grimy box, she smiled. The surge of power she felt as her fingers closed round the wand felt good. How long it had been since she last held a wand. She gave it an experimental wave and red sparks flew out of the tip, illuminating the dimly lit room. Waving the wand round the room, she murmured "Scougrify." The dust and grime that covered the floor, boxes, and windowpanes disappeared and she blinked as more daylight lit the low ceilinged room. The wand in her hand felt odd and familiar at the same time. She stroked the wood, marvelling that she had gone so long without holding a wand. The rush of power that had leapt through her body during the incantation was exhilarating and she felt more alive and energised by it than she could remember feeling in a long time.

Downstairs, she sat down at her computer and copied out the list of ingredients she had found in the trunk. She frowned in thought as she stared down at the list; most of the ingredients were bog standard, Nott Grass, geranium Root, spine of lionfish. But some such as bicorn horn, Boomslang skin, unicorn blood, and a bat spleen were much harder to account for. The unicorn blood especially would pose problems even though a miniscule amount was required. She hoped she had enough money to pay for it. Five minutes later, she was printing the list off, and staring down at it, contemplating her next move and wondering again if she was doing the right thing. If she had misjudged her plan, she would be forced to modify a memory, something she had never done before and which she should not attempt with this wand which Quentin had given her when she had moved in. Squaring her shoulders, she put the list, the bag of money and wand in her handbag. She grabbed up her coat, and exited her cottage before she could change her mind.

The day was cloudy and overcast matching her mood. She walked briskly, exchanging polite greetings with the few people she saw out and about, most walking dogs. Luckily all seemed engrossed in their own pursuits and so didn't stop to chat, much to her relief. Finally she arrived at her destination.

Barry Langford's house, like Megan's, was set back from the road, and had a garage to one side. It was redbrick like most of the other houses in the village, its lines clean and uncluttered. Hermione hoped she wouldn't regret what she was about to do as she marched determinedly up the front path. Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell and waited.

It was a minute before the door was opened by Joan Langford, the eldest of Barry's children and one of Hermione's A-Level English students.

"Oh, hello miss, come in," Joan invited, stepping back and opening the door wide.

"Joan, is your dad home?" Hermione asked as the girl closed the door behind her. "I need to ask him for a favour."

Joan's face relaxed and she nodded. "Yeah, he's in here. "Dad, it's Ms Granger, she wants to ask you something."

A door to their left opened and Barry emerged, looking as though he'd just been woken from a nap.

"Ah, Hermione this is a nice surprise, come in." He ushered her into what she guessed to be his study. Papers were scattered on a desk and books were arranged on shelves round the room. There were a number of comfortable looking easy chairs and he waved her to one of them. Joan she noticed had gone.

"What will you have?" Barry offered nodding at a drinks cabinet, but she shook her head.

"Nothing thanks, I'm not much of a drinker."

"I remember you refused to try my punch the other night. You don't know what you were missing," he shook his head in mock bewilderment.

"I think I did," she grimaced. "Meg said the punch was very potent. One glass would have knocked me flat."

Pouring himself a whisky, he sat down opposite her. "I'm guessing this isn't a social call?" At her slight shake of the head he continued, "So, how can I be of assistance?"

Instead of answering his question, she posed one of her own. "How's Chris getting on at school?"

"Very well thanks. He wrote the other day, saying that he'd passed a test with good marks." The pride in his voice was evident.

"Oh?" she asked with interest. "Which subject?"

"Um, chemistry." At her raised brows, he amended, "Well, a form of chemistry if you like…Oh if you must know, it was potions!"

Hermione relaxed slightly, knowing that a small part of her problem was solved. "Hmm, a hard subject I believe."

Barry's interest was caught. "So you know what potions is about then?"

"You could say that."

His expression became intent and he leaned forward eagerly. "Hermione, if I'm anything it's honest. Ask Megan if you don't believe me. I promise that anything you say to me will be said in confidence. Is it true? You're the Hermione Granger who left that world six years ago?"

She hesitated. Then nodded.

"I knew it." He lowered his voice, "Chris told me about you when he first went to Hogwarts, about how you'd disappeared from the magical world and no one had seen you for years. I couldn't believe it at first but you looked like the girl in the pictures he showed me. Naturally it was none of our business and when I tried to enquire about your schooling, you always had such convincing answers that I thought we'd been mistaken. But when all that stuff blew up the other day, well…"

"Your curiosity was peaked again," she finished dryly.

"It was all over the Prophet that you'd been found on Thursday evening. Chris sent me a copy of the paper and when Joan and Anthony said you weren't at school on Friday, I wondered."

She nodded. "Well it's a long story but that's not the reason I'm here. Barry, I need a favour from you."

"Anything," he said eagerly. "Heaven knows we owe you, especially after the extra tuition you gave Anthony last year."

"Oh that was part of my job, nothing more," she disclaimed. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Do you have access to the wizarding world?"

"Well yes, mainly through Chris."

"No, I meant access to places like Diagon alley or Hogsmeade," she clarified, glancing round warily.

"I can I suppose."

"Let's say Chris needs something, I don't know, more potions ingredients or some such, how do you get hold of them?" she asked.

"We order them using Chris's owl," he replied promptly.

"Where's the owl at the moment?" she asked, trying to suppress her own excitement.

"In Chris's room. He's resting."

Hermione picked her next words with care. "There are some potions ingredients I need but for obvious reasons, can't get hold of, would you order them for me? I'll pay you of course."

"Of course! Is that it?" He gave her a slightly disappointed look.

"Well, yes." She wondered what he had been imagining she would ask.

"If you give me the list, I'll send Hereclys directly," he agreed enthusiastically.

"Thanks." She took the list from her bag and handed it to him.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he scanned it. "Heavens, this lot is enough to put you off your dinner, what are you going to do with it?"

"Oh not much. I need to make a potion, for protective purposes you know, but haven't the ingredients."

He nodded. Then unable to contain himself asked, "Is it true? They're saying in the prophet that you ran away from your husband and it was some kind of protection mechanism that made him find you." His look was sympathetic and he was no doubt remembering the scandal that had occurred in the village when she had broken up with Ben. Now he knew why.

She had wondered how long it would take him to get on to the subject of her background and shrugged. "Something like that. It's a long and not very interesting story. Now about these potions ingredients…."

The look on his face belied her words but she continued, "The apothecary I need you to send the letter to is one that sells more rare ingredients. I've written the letter and your owl can deliver it if that's ok."

"Yes, of course."

"Barry, I trust this conversation will remain between us?" she asked, a dart of unease dimming her excitement for a moment.

"Oh yes. As I said before, you've no need to worry on that score. Anyway, if I did say something, you'd know about it and I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of your wand. The Prophet was quite explicit about your talents with hexes."

"Oh I'm not that bad, honestly. I just want to be left alone," she said with a weary sigh.

"That's more than understandable. Well, as soon as the stuff arrives I'll give it to Meg who can pass it on to you. It'll probably be less conspicuous that way."

She nodded in agreement and rose to take her leave. The conversation had gone better than she had dared to hope and now all she had to do was wait for the ingredients. She just hoped that the apothecary in Knockturn Ally was still doing business. Hopefully they wouldn't ask any questions. Handing Barry the letter and bag of money she gathered her things together.

"Wait for the ingredients before sending the bulk of the money," she instructed, closing her bag. "You can never be too careful with apothecaries in Knockturn Alley so it's always best to be safe. Just give a small deposit when sending the order, no more."

He nodded. "I'll let Meg know as soon as the stuff gets here."

XoXoXoXo

"It smells absolutely revolting," Megan said eying the bubbling pan on the cooker. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Hermione looked up from the sheet of paper she was studying and grinned. "It's possible I made a mistake but I don't think so. I was a dab hand at potions at school and this looks the right colour and consistency."

"Potions, sounds positively barbaric," Megan Muttered shaking her head. "I can't believe poor Sophie will have to endure it."

"She'll love it," Hermione answered vaguely, concentrating on the potion. "Could you pass me that wooden ladle?"

Megan handed Hermione the implement and watched as she began to stir methodically, first clockwise, then anticlockwise.

"How long will it take to cook?" she asked.

"It doesn't cook, it brews. It's ready according to my instructions."

"You still haven't told me what it's for," the other woman grumbled, giving the bubbling potion a distrustful look.

"Trust me, its very complex. Maybe when you've become more used to the wizarding world I'll explain," Hermione tried to placate.

"It sounds ominous," Megan snorted. "Err, what do you do with it?"

Hermione gave her an uncomprehending look. "Sorry?"

"Well, what do you do with it? I mean do you put it on your skin or what?"

Hermione didn't think Megan would react well on learning the potion had to be ingested and merely gave a vague shrug. "It's used for various things."

"So explain again, why is it safer to brew the potion here rather than at your place? I mean your husband's just as likely to turn up here as there," Megan went on, evidently deciding not to pursue the earlier discussion.

"Yes, but there's the statute of secrecy to consider. The last thing he wants to do is appear out of thin air in front of muggles and have the ministry involved." Hermione took the pan off the heat, and began to pour the mud coloured mixture into a bottle.

"It's still taking a risk," Megan persisted. "He could easily turn up here now. By the way, that card you brought is weird, I still can't get used to the fact that the pictures move of their own volition."

"That's a chocolate frog card; the chocolate frogs are really nice too. You'll get used to the idea of the pictures moving, it just takes a bit of time." Putting the bottled potion into her bag, she gave Megan a reassuring smile. "Stop worrying about things until you have to. It'll work out, you'll see." She wished she could be as optimistic about her own future.

"I suppose so, but it's all so alien!" The other woman persisted. She turned to contemplate the pan Hermione had used. "This potion, will it help hide you in some way?"

Hermione hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes, you could put it like that."

"I've been thinking," Megan started busily wiping down the vacated cooker, "I'd like to meet this husband of yours. How about it? I know a lot more about men than you do and can tell you if he's any good or not."

Hermione frowned, taken aback. "Um, I don't know. Would it be a good idea?"

"Why not?" an eager Megan asked. "Angus and I were discussing it last night and we think it'd be an excellent idea. I won't lie and say there isn't something in it for us as well, but from your point of view, it'll show him you have good friends in the village and so to watch out."

"And what's in it for you?" Hermione asked, interested despite her misgivings.

"It'll give us a chance to question him about that world, maybe introduce us to other parents with children Sophie's age. That way she can get to know other children like her so she has time to adjust to that world before going off to school. I don't imagine it's easy to get used to it, their way of doing things being so different to ours. Besides, it'll give us a better understanding of what she's in for and that's never a bad thing."

As ever, Megan and Angus had decided to adopt the practical approach to Sophie joining the magical world. "I'll think about it and let you know," Hermione hedged, not wanting to disappoint her closest friend, but at the same time reluctant to agree to Megan's suggestion. Glancing at the clock she picked up her bag. "I'd better go Meg; I've marking to get through before tomorrow. Thanks for letting me use your kitchen."

Taking her leave of the other woman, she made her way down the deserted road, her expression thoughtful as she crunched through piles of autumn leaves. The light had faded, and street lamps lit the road in pools of yellow. She hunched further into her coat as gusts of wind buffeted her, clutching her bag with its precious cargo.

To her immense relief, the apothecary in Knocktrun Alley had delivered the list of goods without question within a day. No doubt they had been grateful for the custom. Megan had agreed to lend her use of her kitchen to brew the potion although Hermione didn't like to think how much Megan's gas bill would total after five hours of constant use. Now Hermione had a good supply, and if all went well, would be able to transform into her animagus form very soon. This in itself would give her much more freedom and protection, something which more than adequately made up for her fear of heights.

The feel of a hand on her arm, made her start in surprise. Draco stood watching her, his expression enigmatic. He was dressed in a crisp suit, hair windblown, and scowl firmly in place.

"You were at your friend's house a long time," he grumbled, falling into step beside her.

"How do you know?" she asked warily, hoisting her bag higher up her arm.

"I waited for you. Unfortunately, the charm won't let me appear in front of muggles who haven't taken the oath of secrecy so I had to stand outside." He sounded thoroughly disgruntled and she suppressed a smile.

"Now that's a shame, I almost feel sorry for you."

"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't become you." He took her arm possessively as they walked. "What were you doing there anyway? You went there this morning and at lunchtime."

"What do people usually do at their friends houses?" she retorted and lengthened her stride whilst glancing surreptitiously around. She didn't want anyone she knew to see them together.

"But on top of that you were at your school all day and then back at your friends place; do you ever have any time to yourself?" Draco continued irritably.

He wasn't to know that normally she would be glad to go home after a day of teaching and enjoy some solitude; today however the potion had been her first priority and she had got started first thing this morning, making frequent checks on it throughout the day. She shrugged as they crossed a quiet road. "Meg invited me round so I went."

"Yes, well, it seems you're always doing other things," he griped as they turned into a narrow lane close to Hermione's cottage. "Last night you had marking to do as well, that was when you finally got in."

The day before, she had gone round to her neighbour Val's house after visiting Barry. The older woman's company had been a balm to her ruffled nerves, and it had been late when she had returned home. She took her time in answering his question.

"Welcome to the real world Draco," she drawled, going up her garden path and unlocking her front door. "I have a life here and as surprising as it may seem, it's a busy one."

"I appreciate that," he replied, shutting the front door behind them and following her into the sitting room, "but things have changed now. I'm doing everything I can to accommodate you into my life, why can't you do the same?"

She bit back a derisive laugh, a number of scathing retorts springing to mind as she divested herself of her coat. Settling for a diplomatic response, she answered, "Because I didn't ask to be found by you. "

He huffed in exasperation as he threw his jacket and tie on to an armchair. "No, but I have found you and that changes things. For one thing, it would be nice to see something of you. I had planned for us to spend the evening together last night but you were otherwise engaged. The only meal we've had together since we got back from the villa was hurried and even then you kept saying you had other things to do. I'm regretting us coming back to England so early."

She sighed, putting her bag in a cupboard. "Well, you're here now, what would you like to eat?"

"Oh I've instructed Guddin, my elf to cook," he said, following her into the kitchen.

She scowled as she washed her hands. "That's nice."

"I thought it'd make life easier for you," he smiled, taking her place at the sink. Raising his voice," he called, "Guddin?" There was a crack and a house elf appeared before them beaming. It wore a neatly tied tea towel about its body.

"Master called?" the elf asked looking curiously at Hermione.

"Is dinner ready?"

The elf nodded vigorously, its large ears flapping. "Oh yes master, will Guddin serve now?"

Draco also nodded. "Yes, I'm hungry. "

Hermione wondered how she could get rid of him without arousing his suspicions and knew that she would have to go through with this meal. It was true she had been avoiding Draco whenever she could, using friends and neighbours as a barrier and excuse. Tonight however, he seemed in no mood to be trifled with so she said nothing as he took her arm and lead her to the antique dinner table placed in the centre of the small cosy dining room.

A snowy damask cloth covered the oval table and silver wear she guessed to be Draco's, glinted in the light. She certainly didn't own solid silver cutlery or such fine china.

"Your elf's been busy," she commented as he drew out her chair.

"Well if you won't go out, we have to bring things to you," he smiled taking his place opposite her. "I hope you don't mind, Guddin arranged it while I was waiting for you."

"How did he get in to the house?" she asked alarmed.

"I told him where to come. Elf magic is different to our magic; they can apparate in and out of dwellings which are warded by the most complex spells."

"I see." She relaxed.

"So tell me, how was your day?" Draco asked as a large boll of herb scented pasta and tofu was placed before her. She didn't ask how he knew that she was a vegetarian.

"The usual really," she replied, watching him pouring wine into Crystal glasses. "I had a lot of catching up to do as I was away Friday."

"How many classes do you teach?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested, while offering her side salad and garlic bread.

"I teach one class from each of the lower years and contemporary literature to all the A-level classes," she explained, tucking in to the mouth watering food.

"It sounds as though you have a very full timetable," he commented, before starting on his pasta which had chicken in it. .

There was a silence as each did justice to the meal. Having eaten barely half her sandwich at lunchtime Hermione was particularly hungry. Finally she asked, "How about you? Being the head of such a large company can't give you much free time either."

"I make free time," he smiled, relaxing slightly as he replenished their glasses.

She hesitated. Then asked, "Have you told my parents about what happened before I left? They didn't seem to know anything about it yesterday so I wondered."

He shook his head. "I thought about it but decided against it. It took ages for them to even speak to me in a civil manner, telling them about what had happened would have undone all my good work."

"I can't believe they accepted that you were merely a friend. They knew full well our history."

His gaze flicked away from her as he replied in a seemingly casual voice, "I gave them to understand that our relationship wasn't what one could call platonic."

"Meaning?"

"Well, only that my feelings for you weren't of a brotherly nature."

She was silent. Then asked, "Have they seen the latest additions of the Prophet? I imagine the whole thing was brought up again."

"I made sure they didn't see the prophet, and you're right, it was all dragged up again. You'd think that lot have nothing better to write about than us."

She wondered how often he'd been pestered by journalists but decided not to ask. For once, his scheming nature was working in her favour and Hermione was grateful for that. He would have done everything he could to ensure that her parents knew nothing of their marriage until he wanted them to know although how he had managed to stop Ron and Harry telling them was beyond her.

Tentatively she said, "I can't imagine Ron and Harry keeping quiet about that in front of my parents," and was disconcerted to see the cynical smile these words provoked.

"What, and have your parents ask them why they allowed this to happen to their best friend? Oh no, if you ask me, Potter and Weasley have their own secrets to hide and divulging this news would no doubt oblige them to have to tell your parents of their part in events. For Hermione, they did have a part to play in what happened, you can't deny that."

She didn't answer but concentrated on her pasta as she thought about this twisted logic which nevertheless made sense. No doubt if it had been left to Ron, he would have charged round to her parent's house without a thought for his own part in the events leading up to her departure from the wizarding world. Most likely Harry and Ginny had stopped him. She shrugged, seeing no reason to deny Draco's words.

"Is the miss finished?" Guddin asked, and when she nodded, removed their plates.

"That was delicious," she sighed in contentment, leaning back in her chair.

"There's Italian apple tart to come," Draco said, clearly satisfied.

"I don't think I have room," she groaned as Guddin placed plates of the mouth watering dessert before them.

"Your parents said it was one of your favourite foods." Draco offered her a jug of cream. She poured some on the tart, and tucked in, enjoying the novelty of being waited on in her own home.

Soon the meal was finished, and Hermione stood up, feeling replete and pleasantly tired.

"Can I offer you coffee?" she enquired politely, as Guddin cleared the table and with a click of his long fingers, vanished the used dishes.

"Guddin will do it," Draco said nodding at the elf who bowed and disappeared. "Shall we go to the sitting room?"

Nodding, she lead the way into the cosy room, conscious of him following her. Disconcertingly, he sat on the sofa beside her, rather than opposite as she had expected.

He yawned and leaned back, arm brushing lightly against hers as the elf appeared before them with a crack, carrying a laden tray.

"It's odd to be waited on like this in my own home," she observed, watching the elf setting down the tray before disappearing.

"But nice though," Draco said pouring the steaming brew into bone china cups. "Cream, sugar?"

She accepted the former and sat back, wondering how long he intended staying. There was silence as both sipped their coffee.

"So, had any more visitors?" Draco asked, in a seemingly casual voice.

"Visitors? What do you mean?" she responded guardedly.

"Oh I don't know, other people from the wizarding world maybe?"

She frowned. "Hardly. The only one who knows where I am is you."

"And your Secret Keeper, now lets not forget him," he put in swiftly.

Deciding not to rise to the bate she continued, "I meant to ask you, do you know why my parents haven't been inundated by people wanting to know about me?"

"Because I saw to it that their address was removed from all wizarding records a few years ago. It would never do to have others find you before I did. " He paused and then went on, "I've also cast a few protective wards round their house just in case. Potter and Weasley know where it is but no one else."

She wasn't surprised at his answer. No doubt he had ensured the removal of her parents address as soon as he could after her disappearance, and the wards on her parents' home were probably as complex as any in Gringotts.

Placing his half full cup on the coffee table, he hesitated, then pulled a small package wrapped in thick brown paper from his pocket. With a flick of his wand it had been enlarged and wordlessly he handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, turning the package over in suddenly nerveless fingers.

"Potter gave it to me to give to you. At first I refused but he went on and on until I agreed, so here it is."

"Oh," she replied flatly, staring down at the plain paper, her stomach sinking.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he urged.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what was inside and hesitated. Part of her longed to rip open the package but the other more sensible part warned against it, for now anyway.

"It's not hexed you know, I checked," Draco encouraged watching her closely.

"I know but maybe I'll do it later." She put the surprisingly heavy package on a side table.

Draco's expression was bland as he nodded. "Suit yourself although Potter did ask for a reply from you. What shall I tell him?"

Hell and damnation, trust Harry to want a reply. She could guess only to well the contents of the letter inside the package, for she was sure there would be at least one, although why the package weighed so much, was a mystery. She would open it when Draco had gone, no doubt it contained painful recollections. Just seeing Harry's untidy writing would bring back unwanted memories and she didn't want Draco being a witness to that.

"Whatever you like," she replied indifferently, surprised that he hadn't opened it himself.

His look was searching and she had trouble meeting it. "There's a lot of bad feeling between you," he commented in a neutral voice.

"Some things are best left in the past," was her cryptic response.

"Ah, but the past has a habit of catching up with you," he volunteered, eyes straying to the parcel.

Then he turned back to her, his expression purposeful. "I was wondering whether you'd seen the new production of The Sound of Music?" '

The change of topic took Hermione by surprise and she frowned. "Err, no. Why?"

He smiled. "In that case let's go one evening. I'll book the tickets and-"

"Woe, hold on a second," she interrupted, throwing up her hands. "Where did this idea come from? You don't like muggle musicals and stuff."

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh. "Really Hermione, you must stop prejudging. For your information, I've always loved musicals and plenty of wizards go to see them purely because music and theatre are not things we're good at."

A distant memory shifted in Hermione's mind, and she saw again the Malfoy drawing room on the night so long ago when she and Mandy Brocklehurst had sung arias from the Marriage of Figaro. She was sure that Lucius Malfoy had mentioned something about wizards not being great musicians.

"What's the first musical you saw?" she asked curiously.

"The Lion King, it was very good. My parents took me as a birthday treat when I was seven."

"And they sat with the muggles?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, no. We hired a box. Anyway we're veering from the point, would you like to see The Sound of Music? I haven't seen it yet but have heard it's very good."

She hesitated. "I don't know, it's in London and well…"

"You're worried you'll be recognised?" he guessed shrewdly.

"You can't be too careful. The events of last week will have put me under the wizarding media's spotlight so people will be on the lookout."

He nodded and she could tell by his smug expression that he had already considered this problem.

"That's true. But who's to recognise you under a glamour charm? All we need do is darken your skin colour, and disillusion your features to look more oriental."

She hesitated, torn. It would be lovely to go and see a show in London's west end, something she had not done for six years, but was it worth running the risk of being recognised? Then there was Draco's part in things to be considered. What would her accepting the invite mean to him?

"I don't know…" she prevaricated.

"It's just a show and a pretty good one if the reviews are to be believed. Come on, it'll do you good," he cajoled.

"When?" she asked glancing up at the calendar on the wall opposite.

"How about next week?"

"Just the two of us, right?" The last thing she wanted was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy turning up.

"Of course," he agreed hurriedly. "I've no intention of sharing you with anyone else!"

She nodded, well able to believe this. "An evening would be best." There would be less people around in the evening to see her, reducing the chances of recognition.

"Right, I'll get tickets and let you know."

Draco sighed as he looked at the clock. "I'd better go, I've a few floo calls to make before going to bed and have to be in Geneva by 8 tomorrow morning."

"Oh?" She asked with interest.

"A conference given by the international Confederation of Wizards, pure tedium, but nevertheless necessary. It means I'll probably not be able to see you tomorrow," he continued. "I don't know how well the tracking charm works overseas and would rather not try."

Keeping her expression neutral she nodded. One wrong move at this stage and his suspicions would be aroused. "I hope it goes well, Mum and Dad dread international dental conferences."

He turned her face to his and gazed unblinking at her. "I'll miss you." His lips were gentle as they brushed over hers, the movement unhurried and sensual. She allowed him to slide his arms about her, enjoying the feeling of being held by an attractive man. She returned the embrace, aware of him pushing her back against the sofa and deepening the kiss. The man knew a few things about snogging, she thought hazily as his tongue probed the recesses of her mouth with slow languid strokes. Soon she would end it, but she had to play along convincingly. Anyway, this felt far too good to be so hurriedly curtailed.

His fingers were in her hair while the other hand was splayed against her back, the warmth of his body enveloped her and she felt her nipples stiffen against the cotton of her bra. Her own arms were wrapped about him, maximising the contact between them. With an effort of will, she broke the kiss and turned her face aside but didn't push him away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice unsteady, as he rubbed his face against hers.

"Nothing," she faltered.

He said no more, but pressed his face into her neck, and she tried not to flinch as his jaw covered by a 5 o'clock shadow, grazed her skin. She wasn't sure how long they lay like that, intertwined, but it was she who turned her face to his, and shyly renewed the kiss. His look of surprise was short-lived, and in seconds, he was kissing her back, their mouths melding together. She didn't protest as he slid a hand into her jumper and cupped her breast, expertly massaging until she thought she'd scream with the sensation overload. God this felt good, she thought as he trailed kisses over her jaw down to her throat, each kiss seeming to sensitise her skin still further. She was vaguely aware of her own hands sliding beneath his shirt to caress the skin of his back, anything to maximise contact.

"No," she gasped, finally pushing him from her. "Stop."

She scrambled up, hurriedly adjusting her clothes and not looking at him.

"Hermione," his voice was gentle as he got up and turned her to face him. "Hermione, it's ok."

She looked into smiling grey eyes and blinked. He wasn't annoyed; on the contrary, he looked very pleased.

"I…That is, we shouldn't have," she sighed, confused by the longing that was racing through her. True it had been a long time since she'd been intimate with a man, the tentative kisses exchanged with Ben had been overshadowed by her worry of getting caught, but this rampant need that was coursing through her bloodstream was totally unexpected.

"There are forces that neither of us can control at work here," he reminded, tucking waywood strands of hair behind her ears. "It's natural that the more time we spend together, the more our desire for one another grows, our marriage ensured that."

She nodded doubtfully, still trying to bring her breathing under control. "Yes, but so quickly?"

He laughed easily. "It seems so. Now I'd best leave before we do something we'll later regret. I want our first time together to be really special and for neither of us to regret a moment of it."

Hermione drew back, startled. The consummation of this marriage had been discussed by herself and others with the same detachment as discussing the economic state of Britain, or the problems brought about by climate change. Now however, probably for the first time since it had taken place, she was confronting the real possibility of sleeping with Draco, and quailed at what it would mean. Swiftly she stepped back, putting distance between them, and adopted a closed expression that gave nothing away.

"Let's not be too hasty," she smile grittily, "after all, we're practically strangers. Such intimacy as you're suggesting, isn't born over night, whatever the spells or enchantments were, activated in that parody of a ceremony."

She didn't miss the look of hurt that flashed across Draco's face at these words but remained cool and collected, the passion of a few moments ago, forcibly relegated to the back of her mind.

"I don't understand you," he answered bitterly, "one moment you're ok with things, the next I'm getting the brush-off, why?"

How could she respond to this? The question taunted her, he did after all have a point.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling mean but resolute. "It's just that things are moving too fast and I don't feel as though I'm in control of them. I thought we'd take our time getting to know one another and stuff, but it's not working out like that, which is frightening."

Draco nodded, looking resigned. "True, but I'm not objecting. Don't worry; you won't have to do anything you don't want to. Best to take it a day at a time. Now one more hug and I'll be off."

He held out his arms and feeling less reluctant than she should have, Hermione stepped into them. They wrapped tightly round her, and involuntarily her arms slid round him, pressing their bodies intimately together. A traitorous part of her that had lain dormant until this evening revelled in the contact and she pressed herself closer, breathing in the clean smell of his skin. It was all she could do to stop herself hanging on tight. His kiss was gentle, and to her relief undemanding.

"Merlin, I'll miss you," he murmured, eyes gentle as they rested on her flushed face.

"I'll miss you too." The words escaped her before she could stop them and to her surprise, she realised she meant them.

Their parting was swift and a few moments later, Hermione was alone in the cottage, relief sweeping over her as she collapsed onto the sofa. Her feelings were in turmoil as she thought about the evening and she silently berated herself for responding as she had, while unable to deny the feelings of pleasure he had invoked.

The package Draco had bought was still lying on the side table and to give herself something else to think about, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. She was curious about its contents and hesitated, wondering if she could open it. Then squaring her shoulders, she tugged on the thick tape binding the paper and it came away. There was a tingle in her fingers as the wrapping fell apart and she knew it had been spelled to open only for her. The brown paper fell open to reveal a few letters and a photo album.

Hermione picked up the top letter in not quite steady fingers and ripping open the envelope smoothed out the crisp sheets of parchment. Ginny's neat writing covered the pages, and Hermione had to blink back tears to decipher the words.

'My Dear Hermione,

'Ron and Harry wanted to be the ones to write, but I thought I'd better do it. You know what they're like, can't string two sentences together without starting to yell and blubber.

'I hope you're ok and that Malfoy has delivered this package to you. We were overjoyed to hear that you'd been found, but frustrated to find that only he has access to you. As you can imagine, he isn't letting anyone forget this and it took Merlin knows how many hours of pleading before he agreed to give you this package.

'Oh Hermione, I miss you so much! It's been six years since you left the wizarding world and every day we all feel the loss. A lot has changed since the war. I'm sure Malfoy's told you how it all ended so I won't bore you with it. All I will say though is that things have changed here. Everyone agrees that what happened before you left was awful, but time is a great healer and I hope you can forgive us for the events of that terrible day. None of us realised the extent of the magic that had been used to bind you and Malfoy and when we did find out, we were horrified, but by then you'd gone.

'Before he died, Professor Dumbledore left you a letter which I've also enclosed in this package. He wanted your forgiveness Hermione for what happened. He was very ill during the last months of his life, and he spent a lot of time worrying about you and his part in things. I hope his letter brings you some peace and goes some way towards helping to heal old wounds.

'From what Malfoy's grudgingly told us, you're teaching now. I hope you're enjoying it. As you probably know, Harry's an auror and Ron plays chess professionally. As for me, well, Harry and I recently had a baby, James. He's a month old, and much to dad's dismay, has inherited Harry's untidy mop of hair rather than the Weasley red. We got married two years after the war and I played Quidditch before having James. Now all my time is taken up with him, it's amazing how something so small requires constant attention. How mum wasn't driven insane by seven of us is beyond me.

'I've enclosed some photos of James you may like to look at. He's smiling now and cooing so the photos will be more interesting.

'Hermione, we can't tell you enough how sorry we are for what happened, but please, please, try and put it behind you now. It's too much to hope that you'll forgive us for our part in events, and I won't ask it of you, not in a letter. All we ask is that you reply back. Malfoy has agreed, grudgingly, to bring us your reply and for now we must be content with that. All we want is a few lines telling us you're ok and happy. Surely that's not too much to ask?

'I'll end now, but please, please write back, even if it's a note telling us to 'sod off'. That'll be better than nothing. Anything's better than your silence from the past six years.

'I hope you're ok and that Malfoy's not making a nuisance of himself. He is very protective of you and anxious that no one disturb you in any way, an admirable sentiment however frustrating for us.

'All my love,

'Ginny'

Tears rolled unchecked down Hermione's cheeks as she reread the letter. There was pain etched in every word the other woman had wrote and Hermione knew the letter was heartfelt.

Carefully she put the letter back into the package and retied it. Later she would look at the photos and maybe even read the letter from Dumbledore but she didn't feel strong enough just then.

Glancing at the clock, she saw an hour had passed since Draco's departure. Now was a good a time as any to put her plan into action and it would take her mind off Harry Ron and Ginny for a while. Pulling the bottled potion from her bag, she eyed it nervously. It had been a long time since she had transformed after all, and she was not looking forward to it. She had spent the last few days going through the exercises to help with the transformation but still she worried that something may go wrong. Then for the second time that evening, she took a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she swallowed a mouthful of the potion and waited.

It happened instantly and she screamed inwardly as her body transformed. Physical pain she hadn't felt in years lanced through every cell of her, as rapidly as she shrunk, and her limbs, not used to this excruciating pressure, were forced into those of her animagus form.

A few seconds later it was over and she stood on the carpet breathing heavily and peering at the coffee table, the surface of which reflected a tawny owl, wearing a pained expression. With care, Hermione lifted her wings and wobbling slightly, flew in not quite a straight line to the window sill on which she perched, gazing round her with not just a little pride at her accomplishment.

She had done it! After years of no magic, she had turned into her animagus form. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her at the thought. Now all she had to do was master her dislike of heights and she could truly take advantage of the freedom this gave her.

Deciding she'd had enough for one day, she transformed back into her human form, wincing as every muscle shrieked under the strain it had been put through. She definitely needed to practice transforming. At this rate she wouldn't be able to walk two steps let alone fly. Gingerly she limped back to the sofa and fell on to it, her muscles protesting. There was a long and painful road ahead of her where transforming was concerned, but she was determined to travel it and endure the pain.

She would use the next day which she hoped would be Draco free, to work on her transformation and maybe she would even fly outside. If she was feeling up to it, she'd read the letter that Dumbledore had left for her. It would be interesting to see what he had to say, and possibly, explain his actions, although how, she wasn't sure. As for replying to Ginny's letter, she would think about that when she wasn't in so much pain.


End file.
